Like a puppy it prances.
\nRuns about the room chasing shadows.
\nDay with no history.
\nVirgin country.
\nHours asking for play.
\nConversation.
\nPoor day with only me
\nto take it out.
\nMumbling.
\nComplaints.
\nWhat am I to do?<\/p>\n
I whine,
\nwhat\u2019s the weather like?
\nIf it\u2019s sunny,
\nit hurts the sleep in me.
\nIf it\u2019s cold, I cover myself and pout.
\nRain, what can I do in the rain?<\/p>\n
All the time
\nI realize how rare you are.
\nHow few I will ever have.
\nChoices beyond comprehension.
\nLike a giant library,
\nand I want to find a book,
\nas if the shelves were bare.
\nAnd while I complain,
\nlove stands in the corner.
\nJoy stays in its magic box.
\nFlowers droop and close their petals.<\/p>\n
Then a knock at the door.
\nI open it, but nothing\u2019s there.
\nNo…something touched my cheek.
\nA bird glides above me.
\nI hear subtle, mellifluous sounds
\nof moving about.
\nA whisper in my heart, saying,
\nthis is home.
\nThis is the perfect day.
\nThis is your soul for the asking.
\nFor you, the world will wait,
\nbut not forever.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Like a puppy it prances. Runs about the room chasing shadows. Day with no history. Virgin country. Hours asking for play. Conversation. Poor day with…<\/p>\n