lyre(A poem, song)

 

silly silly fool

who plays the harp so loud

don’t you know they’re not listening

you’re muffled by the crowd

 

silly silly fool

you’re eager to join in

without a music stand or sheet

without words to chime in

 

so make a song, however long

you’ve time to think & hum

And mutter sweet melodies by the plucking of your thumbs

 

all seems in frenzied discord when there’s someone near

so simply play your new songs only for your ear

 

silly silly fool

so many chords to pluck

pluck some here, pluck some there

till the day is done

so many many new songs that still haven’t been sung

 

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