Same Old Song
This poem was published about 8 years back in one of the national poetry journals. I just found it while going through some old files while putting together my book of old poetry.

SAME OLD SONG
By Duane Allen Gundrum

Every morning the same bird sings its waking song
Bringing the world to life.
Cheerful.
Without a care in the world
Does he lift his wing to soar
Or does he just fly?
Does he wonder what it’s all about?
Or does he just sing?

The roads keep turning
And the turns keep twisting
And the twists keep changing
Till the road is all there is.
The distance between us is no longer a straight line
But an endless cavern of words and silence.

Do you still think about me when the birds sing?

Do you still listen to the same old songs?
Do you say the same old words?
Do you still think of the world in the way you do?
Every morning the same bird sings its waking song.
And I wonder if the meaning ever changes.

Stumble It!