i play a tune…
of wide open skies
with cotton clouds and clear,
of my family and friends
and all that i hold dear.
i sing a song…
of chilly winter evenings
when sentences turn misty;
spent with hot chocolate
and books, old and dusty.
i hum along…
to life on a conveyer belt,
and unless we stop to stare
at what’s all around us,
we’ll never know who we are.
E-minor