A song singing thrush,
Whistles while amongst the brush.
Not a single soul around
For him to have to hush.
A thought rushed his mind,
"I wish an audience to find.
I'll sing my songs which no one's heard
And break this 'same old grind'.
This talent I've been given,
Will go to waste if I don't share.
For God has given them to me
To all I must declare."
No comments:
Post a Comment