American Pie Poem by gershon hepner

If you think the music may collapse
and die on you like grandpa did,
you are a pessimist who should perhaps
forget the blues and sing to rid
yourself of premonitions that are dreary
and think more positively now,
and purr contentedly while feeling cheery
because you are the cat’s meow.
Hello there, Miss American great pie,
you are the one whom I love most;
come join me, for your music will not die,
here where the sun sets on the coast.