A little bitty song a child might sing

A little bitty song a child might sing
While laughing on the see-saw or with a
Thin string across his finger holding taut
The quick, capricious flight of a cheap kite;

The jingle I remember from the clock
That sat atop the mantle at my mom's,
That once my sister whistled without thought
A set of harmonies right underneath;

It is as simple as a full balloon.
Two notes, or three, the birds sang up above
And I forgot to shape my mouth so that

I could articulate a word at all.
Quietly the ceiling fan revolves
As I forget what's music and what isn't.