Where daffodils
Perfume the breeze,
And chirps and trills
Concert the trees,
And nectar spills
From mouths of bees,
I find my thrills,
My fun, my ease.
And though it ills
I rather please
To take green hills
With allergies.
Benadryl pills?
No thanks: I’ll sneeze.

^ ^

I’m slipping, sliding,
right into the dark.
I’m twisting, turning,
falling apart.

I’m flying, soaring,
up in the clouds.
I’m running, sprinting
across the grounds.

I’m hiding, shrinking,
under the stairs.
I’m searching, seeking,
looking nowhere.

I’m laughing, joking,
having some fun.
I’m talking, shouting,
telling no one.

I’m crying, sobbing,
drying my tears.
I’m leaping, jumping,
crashing down here.

I’m dying, living,
both at once.
I’m thinking, learning,
what the world wants.

I’m sleeping, dreaming,
all in my head.
I’m waking, blinking
here in my bed.

“Follow your dreams!” Said the sage
“But what if you wake and they’re gone?”
“Well maybe you’ll soon come of age?”
“Or maybe I simply have none!”

The years soon past and enlightenment never came
Maybe the wise man was wrong
To rise every morning always the same
No direction for moving along

“Reach for the stars!” said the sage
“But what if I can’t see the sky?”
“Maybe it’s only a stage?”
“Maybe I can, if I try!?”

Well time ticked by but the stars never shone
Maybe the wise man was wrong
Had those pin ****** to heaven faded and gone
Or just never there all along

“What should I do?” said the youth
“Follow your dreams!” I replied
“But for you it was never the truth!”
“Well maybe the old sage had lied?”

No longer will she come a-calling
She left his keys
With a twist of the knife he's falling
To his knees
A stab in the dark without warning
She never flees
How can she sit there ignoring
A dying man's pleas?

The problem with Orange
Is nothing will rhyme
So instead of an Orange
I'll write about Lime.