I hope I'm not wasting my breath.
I hope I'm not wasting my breath,
As I muse about life and death,
Or voice my views on space and time,
Expressly blessed by words of rhyme.
With pride, I pen pleasure and pain,
Beauty and beast, sunshine and rain,
Prefaced by honest precious hours,
Googling for the sweet and sour.
I dare declare, though oft disguised
Opinions on the foolish wise,
Distinctions of what's fair or foul,
To elicit groans, grins, or growls.
I try to craft when I create,
A reason behind love and hate,
Different degrees of right and wrong,
Sly melodies in sound and song.
Preachers preach on heaven and hell,
Churches pray for the sick and well,
I beg aggression and constraint,
Lord knows I'm both sinner and saint.
I find in words with which I waltz,
Propensities toward true and false,
In my small world, Summer to Spring,
Poetic words say everything.