Every once in a long, long while,
I'll stop to count my eggs.
I'll consider all I've got,
and then begin to move my legs.
I breathe in the morning's air,
as I feel out the day's beat.
I will sparkle all my teeth,
and let the rhythm carry my feet.
Though some shells may be cracked,
I never lose my pace.
I keep everything I have,
because it was there in the first place.
Little bundles of joy I possess,
all draped in lilac white.
Each one luxuriant in love,
and all together make up my life.
Because as you can see,
these aren't just one of life's trends.
No, certainly not,
these are all my friends.
The people I adore,
and with whom I can be me,
without judgment or regret,
and not a shred of uncertainty.
For if you listen close,
you can hear a precious sound.
I'm breaking through my own shell,
waiting to be found.
Found in a basket,
one perhaps not my own,
but of someone else,
someone I call home.
And as my friend looks down,
his starry eyes meet me,
a little duckling in a basket,
waiting to be freed.