By Yesu Ben
I seek to find in long hours of ennui
A routine dance over a shaded glen;
The show will start at ten and end at three;
The stage is set, the mic tests now and then.
I feel so well-heeled watching from this floor
Surmising that perhaps that eager bunch
Of huddled birds, too tired to hunt and soar,
Have tickets saved from those days skipping lunch.
The ballet has begun and all is hushed
The gust that teased the leaves has settled down,
And rain begins to drop making clouds blush
And waltz in jazzy hues of purple brown.
The dances we’ve been used to won’t compare
To this of Life, exquisite and priced fair.
Source: FB
