Lighter than a feather, glorious weather,
A systematic ground pound of a Nintendo flashback, nostalgic like it's bound in leather.
"Are you cannon or thunder?" Both in a BOGO and I'd have to tip my hat to that, if I wore one, you make me wonder
If I did, would it be red? And would I be singing, gleefully, "it's a me!"
Where is joy's urgency?
When will they arrive?
Meanwhile, my interests are like intermingling strings,
To each their own periodic surfacing,
every half decade adding another to the party, every half decade since I've been alive.
Oh, and as an addendum,
Dance like there's no choreography.
Swim like there's no shark!
We're after ghosts hiding in the fog,
Whispers in the dark,
Whispers riding refracted light beams, somewhere between the faucet, the curtain, and the stream
of water.
We may mean different things when we speak of "contemplation"
A different person when we say "father"
(but I know even now you catch my drift)
I only hope we can create something,
something of an experience for our friends, a gift to lift the spirits!
Most things sound like a better idea than the work they take to be accomplished.
I guess that's why most only chase a few,
But I shall endlessly sink my teeth into more than I can chew!
After all, why not?
Perhaps I'm a glutton for life,
"And how much death does it take to feed a glutton?"
But to compensate I will aim to be properly orientated, straight and true!
Until I get distracted and forget to tie my shoe.
And as I lean down to tie, I look back on life.
But for there to be nostalgia, there must first be joy,
and right now, joy! Dang it, man, where are you?
