My Own Song of Myself
I sing a song, a song of myself
A song that few shall ever hear.
As I sing I sit and stare
And watch solemn specter’s dance near.
The specter’s seldom stop and watch and look
To see what round them stands.
Instead they swiftly stalk away
And in their pockets stuff their hands.
But in such moments they sadly miss
What around them still occurs,
They miss the things that matter most,
Parts of life’s undeniable quirks.
They miss the sky, so blue, so calm
They don’t see the coming storm.
A squirrel that scampers ‘cross their path
Is a thing they often scorn.
But in this they miss his fluffy tail,
The curiosity on his face,
They often miss his spectacular fur
And a squirrel’s own stylish grace.
When stopping to see the sun shine bright
And the flower’s colors that I hold so dear,
I often have time to contemplate
All of life’s irrational fears.
An oh so important test begins to seem
Not such a bad thing,
Grades so commonly become escalated,
Until all else in life becomes extinct.
Society ceases to matter when
All one worries about is their grades,
But one must come to understand
That there is no need to be afraid.
Of course grades are important
But they shouldn’t become ones whole life,
Everyone needs time to stop and see
And move past life’s little strife’s.
My favorite thing that calms me down
Is to sit outside and see
What transpires between people
And how they react to me.
I find it sad, when I watch
And find people no longer care
About what really matters,
What is already right there.
People miss the birds in flight,
The sun dancing on the window panes,
They miss the silent songs the wind sings,
They miss the flowers natural paint,
They miss the green grass underfoot,
And the bugs that scatter across the ground,
They miss the tiny things in life
That happen all around.
Every time I stop and stare
And look at what happens around me,
I hope that one day I may finally findAnother who may truly see.