I’m keen to the art of deceiving
I have all the flowers believing
I lie in my grave
But I’m really not that brave

I swing from the branches of the trees
I twist the stems of all the leaves
I die in the sun
So the moon can mock my fun

I’m a book left open on the table
I’m a chair, a little less than stable
I sit in my shadow
And, pretend that I’m not callow

I used to beg the moon to send a ladder
I’m not amused by adolescent chatter
So just be quiet
And, be surprised by what you know

You see the moon, it grins from below
We dance above it and we provide the glow
It isn’t easy
When the sun is in your soul

I’m not keen to the art of dying
I try my best to live by trying
I stay alive
Through the litter on the street