THROUGH
A poem, a poem, a poem,
A poem I shall write;
'Bout how thing's are a goin'
Through morning,
I wake just after sunrise,
To greet a grateful day,
(Unless it is a Monday),
I remember to take praise.
"Appreciate, Appreciate,
Appreciate", I say,
"Beauty is a vision,
I hope to gain today".
When noontime comes around.
My tummy makes a sound ;
I keep on thinkin', how Id be eaten'
If munchies could be found.
As I eat, I stop to think,
And quiet down my wants.
I see how nice it is, to feel the bliss,
Of peace set in my heart.
So soon its time for sunset,
When moonshine is the light;
Too quick my vision quiets down,
To sleep through out the night.
In my dreams I galavante,
Through a world of lucid fancy;
In deep sleep, I feel the peace,
Of death, though not as chancy.
Once again its time for morning,
The yesterdays gone past;
Today brings hope of vision,
Of Beauty that will last.