On Poetry

I don’t remember much about being six or seven
Except that when I rhymed I was in heaven
O! Captain and Daffodils sang to me
A lyricist, a songster you have to be
Poetry is the subsistence of my soul
It’s what completes and makes me whole
Rhymes listen to my woes, they respond to my tears
Whenever I need help, they allay my fears
When I laugh, I rhyme awhile with smile
When I cry, I rhyme sigh with why
And when I am feeling particularly ferocious
I put supercalifragilisticexpialidocious next to atrocious
On any of my loved one’s birthday
If I draw a card and don’t know what to say
I let my emotions scamper free and quick
And say it all in facile lyric
When I am disturbed and sit and ponder
On issues of life my mind tends to wander
I don’t turn unhappy in unforgiving time
For I can always dance away in easy rhyme
I am now sixteen curious and young
On questions of tension I am hung
From confusion and distress I want to fly
I think God does not have time to reply
To the million questions put up by me
So He gave me my poetry.