I cant sing as well as you can
I cant dance either
But I can listen
I can absorb
I can hang on the edge of a tendril for as long
As it will let me
Will not complain when I am dropped
Because the vine has to grow
And at long last, it has to show
How much it could have made a difference
If only, some one had held its hand,
Taken it along, on a path
Where every stone celebrates irreverence,
Just the irreverence