Writings In The Sand Poem by Bill Cantrell

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