reprise

the writer's life, both of them

the little woman is telling me
a writer’s life’s too narrow
sighted only on what he can see
i see it like a winged sparrow

while the powerful princess whacks away
i’ve got to write my own, you see
let’s lift our hats to the writers work
without the Mcmurtrys where would we be

the saga ends all to soon
give me the great stories and actors to play
winter’s gone, it’s nearly June
be content writers know what to say

the words fly on like a wounded sparrow
as thought lines soar, rush and dart
nearly downed by the random arrow
coming to rest, so near the heart

i’ll labor on long as i am able
the ship goes down while runs the rat
i hear her say, “supper’s on the table”
now tell me, how’d she do that?


Tuesday, April 08, 2008