Song of Myself

If I had a song of myself,

it would be the quiet strum of a ukelele, 

the chatter of 100 singing bluebirds,

and the smell of lavender soap.

It would be the startling sound of a summer splash,

the weary whistle that no one hears,

the taste of molasses and grapefruit juice,

and the feel of a dog's fur coat beneath one's fingers.

If I had a song of myself,

it would be the silent chuckle after a joke,

the playing of four harmonies piano keys,

and the smell of freshly cut grass.

It would be the swift stroke of a paint brush,

the color of coral in the great barrier reef,

the rasping sound of a page being turned,

and the sigh of settling into a good, long book.