I am not thrilled
I am not proud
I am not funny
I am not loud
My brand is modest
The shtick mundane
I don’t do wise
And loathe profane
I have a voice
It’s rarely heard
It’s too quiet
A mouse
A bird
I want to rant
I want to rail
I want to rally, inspire
Prevail
But I’m not thrilled
I am not proud
I have no lists
No lessons
No how
One day
I hope
There’ll be a room
And time
With space and tea
And all the quiet thoughts
That tumble
Will assemble
From the jumble
And the page will be my witness
Even if
My brand is modest and
The schtick is much the same