If Only

My mouth becomes a prison for songs

I won’t sing.

I stand with my mouth open wide,

hoping they’ll jump into the light.

I could write a brilliant masterpiece,

if I only tried.

I sit holding a pen,

waiting for notes to fly off the end.

Nothing ever came from nothing,

nothing ever could.

I could become something

if only I would.

Written October 15th, 2005; Updated October 8th, 2021