Good Morning
My voice rang across the room.
Good Morning
He sang
A smile creeping up from the corners of his mouth, spreading up towards the wrinkles of his eyes where his glasses hang.
Those baby blues
Illuminating the room like they do...
He asked for his daily poem
So I read him two.
I'm impressed, he said,
Barely audible
"I'm so proud of you."
I plant a kiss on his forehead
I'm so blessed
I said
To have an audience kind enough to grant me his ears while I rant multiple stanzas all the way through....
Now lets get up and get dressed,
"I'm so proud of you too..."

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

We never say what it is to say, that is, what is the pertinent daring of the day.
And on top of that-
though,

all that which that is on top of is all of the above?

Just that?

I can do...
I can
do...

better than you.