THE HUMMINGBIRD

Humming to herself on the busy Northern Line
Happy and content is she as if drinking an old wine
Smiles to anyone in the hope they smile back 
Nobody does this on the tubes for fear of an attack 

The humming now becomes words to a song 
She doesn't care if some of the words are wrong 
The song she sings is simple and plain 
Nobody joins in so she sings it again 

The song now finished no applause was heard
Sung so beautifully like that of a hummingbird 
However with her old shoes and holes in her clothes 
People just don't appreciate good music I suppose