For A Pair Of Grass Parakeets

For A Pair Of Grass Parakeets

A pair of grass parakeets,
better known as budgerigars,
one blue, the other yellow,
in a picture in a mirror,
perched on a twig in the air,
glistening with leaves,
green and copper,
on a wall, half way up a stair,
must have meant something once
to those who put it there.
Now just a curiosity,
someone may buy it at a sale,
a relic of a life, a time that is gone
before it could tell faithfully its tale.
Anyway, it inspired me to compose this tune.
I aim to play it in the bar
where they come to drink wine
and smoke cigars.
My audience hardly notice me,
but my job puts money in the bank,
honey in my jars.
They only attend when the singer
starts to croon.
They don’t care if I play Beethoven
or Scott Joplin
as long as I paddle out a tune.

Now it’s late in the afternoon,
I play my light, jazzy tune,
thinking, certainly,
the blue budgerigar
will not be divided
from the yellow budgerigar.
One will not fly away or die,
to leave the other one alone.
There, now I have my theme,
I have my mellow tone.
They will not part,
one will not go,
to leave the other
with a frozen, broken heart.
That is the way,
my tune melodious and slow.
Need to work on the middle,
but I’m happy with the start,
feel the joy I once knew,
when I was a boy on the shore,
and with my kite I flew.

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