Keep scratching that elusive keyboard.
If you pine to be a writer one day.
Your masterpiece then, is imminent.
A symphony, nigh that way.
Keep plucking that derelict banjo
If you ever yearn to make a song.
Your words will then, drizzle off those strings.
And the tune won't take so long.
Keep mucking up those starched clean clothes
If you want to be a swimmer of streams.
You'll find your grit gaining muscle with each stroke.
And then, your palms rowing in your dreams.
Keep swallowing nature whenever you can
If you ever wish to meet yourself.
You’ll find your soul start confiding in you
And then, you won't be such a stranger to yourself.
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