The Song

Sometimes I just like to write whatever’s on my mind
I can usually come up with one or two fine lines
Nothing that I say will change the world a little bit
But if I can find a spark it could be a big hit

Fame’s elusive, it is true
For the goal it’s what I do
I may never make the grade
But I take pride in what I’ve made 

It takes a bit of time, I know, to put these words together 
Unless they really carry weight, they will not last forever 
A pen to paper writing verse a hundred years ago 
Had little chance of being read by those not in the know

But a chunk just might remain
Lost and found and bringing fame
Stuck inside a dusty book
Someone takes a second look

“It’s a work of art,” declared by many in this time
The words, the rhymes, the meter, everything is just sublime 
Never in a hundred years has this mood been expressed 
Cannot fathom why this work of art had been suppressed 

So the song makes its debut
Everybody thinks it’s new
Hits the charts at number one
And its fame has just begun

Then in time, the truth revealed, they find this song is old
Yet it’s not a scandal but a marvel to behold
Ancient words have come to life in another era
That it happened is this time cannot be an error

Truth is deep, it touches souls
Modern times it serves as well
Poet from a century past
Has found intended ears at last

Roger D. Linder: FAWM 50-90-2024
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