As I play piano late into the night,
when poetry is easy, the house is quiet,
Tea cup full, my heart welling with things to say;
As I search for my "genre" in the market place,
For my "peer group" in the music world-
I find myself without such virtues,
Sometimes a little bit alone with my songs.
Always sure though,
of their worthiness to be heard,
And of my willingness to give them flight.
So far above glitter and red carpets is true sensitivity!
Is unfailing artistry.
So like a shoe maker makes shoes;
Late into the night, I make songs.
Without the need for genre, friends, even fans,
With passion, with pleasure,
With everything I am,