If the World were more like Poets,

Words can create visions,That grow and then stay,The dance of celestial spheres,Remains programed in the sky,Telescopes peer into the distant darkness,Always trying to discover,The next miracle of creativity,That will be born from,The artist’s imaginative, cry,Forever feeling the elusive, Why?

But who would not drown?Happily,In her fantastic waves.

In a candy store.‘Adios America’Goodbye.

Love can quickly turn to Hate,When felt it was just a mistake.

So little time,Is anything resolved?No, not by a Rhyme.But at least you’ve tried,To take a step further,Even though, you knowLife and Logic,Never seem to coincideOr go together.

Almost neverSleep!They stay upShuffling words,Writing dreamsInstead of countingSheep.