I wish I had a typewriter
That a blue jay liked to rest on
Like power lines in pretty paintings
I wish I had a typewriter
That dispensed music notes
Incrementally
Like leafs from their trees
on an Autumn's evening
I wish I had a typewriter
who's letters shifted spaces
Rearranging themselves
into poetic little phrases
I wish I had a typewriter
that grew from a bud
And blossomed like a poppy flower
I wish I had a typewriter
that collected dust in its place
atop an old piano
In my faded pink guest bedroom
I don't have a faded pink guest bedroom
I don't have a guest bedroom
I don't have an old piano
I don't have a piano
I wish I had a piano
To grow old with
And a typewriter
To keep us company
In a faded pink guest bedroom