I wrote a people, about a poem
Because I was away, I wasn't home
When I'm not home, where could I be
Hanging out with birds and squirrels, in a tree
I like to bike, and ride I do
On a summer day, when skies are blue
I dance upon the white clouds, up in the sky
I hang on real tight, as they pass on by
An island trip, when it's warm outside
With birds and nature, I always confide
They listen closely, from a nearby tree
And tell me it's private, just them and me
I go to the park, and take a little walk
Lock up my bike, people love to talk
I try to listen, but I hear the birds
They sing to me, I understand not their words
It's a quiet day, but it feels so great
Peaceful and tranquil, which I appreciate
And wherever I go, wherever I roam
I write a people, about a poem
