Sense

It may make no sense

No sense at all

But listen to this

As man of tall

Shall bend at the knees

As petals fall

And the breaking of day

Is best thought at night

To imagine to the sun

Most vivid in sight

And some days I’m weary

Some days I’m cold

Some days I’m young and others I’m old

Sense is the happen

No need for the why

As we’re born, we exist

And the end, we die.

Which Way?

I asked the sun so kindly

“What door shall I take?

Should I go left or right

This decision I can’t make!”

She smiled very sweetly

“You know what I’m to say

There really is no change

To what I said the other day!”

“So how about the left?” I said

“It may give me what I want

It’ll big up my ideas

In gold, italic font

Or maybe right is best

A way I’d never planned

Leaving the big city

Calling home sea and sand

Or… one day I’m in one

And another day, the other

One day I could have money

And the other day, a lover

Or right arm in the left door

And left goes in the right

Each hand fondling something

Keeping something outta sight

Another option is

I just stay where I am

So what do ya say, stay put?”

The sun replied “yes ma’am”