Writings In The Sand

If I were a poet, a hummingbirds bill would be my quill From nectars sweet, I would let him drink then upon the page, his words would spill At times I will get writers block It happens to us all As winter creeps up, they take to flight Migration in the fall If I were a poet, Where everything, I penned came true I would write in the sand, upon your grave Welcome back my dear, I waited for you Now if I were a poet gone bad And the hummingbird flew away And a vulture landed upon my hand, I would know for sure, my poetry's dead I wish I were a poet