The sign Is hanging
It’s hardly noticed
The sign is green and gold
And old
The sign speaks to me
In It’s unique way
As the breeze picks up
It begins to sway
It’s outside my window
Just 4 feet away
The sign is hinged
metal and rust
It squeaks a bit faster
The stronger the gust
I could get some oil
Some string and a pole
But It seems to me
Like the sign has a soul
In the midst of a storm
It can get quite loud
A bit like that gay mate
Noisy and proud
Sometimes the only company I get
So I'm not planning to silence It yet
The sign has been here a lot longer than me
So for now at least I’ll leave the thing be.
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