I am bored,
With nothing to do,
So that is why,
I’m writing to you,
This lovely poem,
For you to enjoy,
To have forever,
Like a simple toy.
I don’t mind,
Do whatever you like,
For all I care,
Attach it to a bike,
And send it out to the world,
To a place unknown,
Or write it on a ball,
Then leave it alone.
These words mean nothing,
Unless spoken aloud,
So they can drift up like smoke,
And tickle the clouds,
For they remain by themselves,
Up high in the sky,
Cause science knows how,
But no one knows why.
Don’t leave this unread,
Better yet when your done,
Write it down and send it back,
So we can have some fun.
While sitting by the fire,
Sipping cocoa or tea,
Imagining things,
Ha! things that can’t be.
Like sea monsters, flying horses
And goblins under my bed,
In all sorts of colors,
All of it in my silly head.

As I have said,
All these are in my head.

So… As I lay bored,
With nothing to do,
Whoa! I just noticed,
I have just shared my wildest thoughts with you.

—Thomas James Written on April 3, 2010