Under The Bridge Poem by Rose Stern

This week,
I rode to the bridge,
And sat under it, singing,
A little bit away, was an old fisherman,
He was listening and fishing,
To every word I was singing,
But the songs turned to rap,
And he stepped,
To try every word I'd say.
When my phone was nearly dead,
And I packed everything away,
He came up to me and said,
"You have a beautiful voice,
Don't waste it on rap"
But it's the only way,
That people listen to what I say.
He was right of course,
I should sing, not rap,
And so this poem is to thank him,
For his advice.

-r.s