(For HIM)
Just got your morning poem
and I'm sitting here, in ponder.
Thinking 'bout your sadness,
and I can't help but wonder
if there's something I can say
(since I've oft been there before)
discontent, afraid and blue,
and life is such a chore.
Sometimes we think ourselves to death
with thoughts devoid of hope,
not realizing it's the opposite mind
that truly helps us cope.
Why do we waste away today
with fears about tomorrow?
Spend all day feeling negative,
And fill our nights with sorrow?
I look out my kitchen window
and see a squirrel perched on the fence.
"What must life be like for him,
living solely by primal sense?"
For surely he's not worried
about what he's got to do.
He'll start to think about winter
when time comes for him to.
But for now he finds contentment
in simple little things -
like finding goodies in the grass
as the bird above him sings.
And though his little rodent brain
is no bigger than a pea,
it seems that he's the lucky one,
'cuz he's happy: just to be.
Life is full of beauty, babe
you needn't look too far.
It all depends on how you choose
to look at where you are.
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