When Talents Droop As Feathers
One day, I hope to play the concertina.
You see, it's always been a dream of mine
And yet my fingers' webbings mean a
Mutant such as I can't toe the line
And yet, should someone build the right prosthesis
I'll play at the Carnegie, yes indeed
A Holiday or Goodman piece is
Dare I say it--better heard than seed?
Contributors: | will h, F, Helen Owly, Kansas Sam. |
Poem finished: | 3rd June 2005 by will h. |