Even in the garden of inspiration There will be no second chance..
..to redo that first dance

So don't always wait for the invitation
To step up...to step up and not miss
That awkward and electrifying build-up of the first kiss

What glory will be won by implication
That creates some obstinate need to win it
If you surrender raise the white flag and are still late by 1 minute

Will you be able to dispel the inclination
That persists in what if's.... you had done this
Or might some ironic twist allow something else to miss

Even In The garden of inspiration
Where dreams of  butterfly parades
Lends color and pattern and beauty that never fades

And the artistic squirrel renders artistic deviation
By showing off the scrolls which he carefully unrolls
Depictions of treeless wastelands
beyond his controls

As the squirrels all gather  to witness his creation
A sad vigil they sit the branches where so often each one dances
I stand chastened by guilt felt
the pain in the eyes - as each one glances

From the barren depiction to me and at our symbiotic relation.  
We destroy forests, water... air ....
taking more than our needs
This line of solumn tree dwellers
give back forests by hoarding seeds

So even in the garden of inspiration..
..I cannot see how it will all work out
When the squirrels all stop dancing  
And the butterfly parades wilt in the world without shade

Even in the garden of inspiration I can't see past the destruction and decimation
To what should be our greatest creation

And I wonder - if we even care
To really really really look at the state of disrepair
We have allowed ourselves to take for granted
What the animals and birds and fish allowed us to share.