The following poem is about trying to find a balance in life and how there really isn’t one, life ever changes and one must learn to flow with it and find happiness throughout the ups and downs…
Pop O? The Weasel
What a fine balance seldom secured
Each second a teter-a-tot
The sleeping one leaves here quaintly affirmed
To the dream that?s stable locked bought
But a whistle! A Thistle!
Startles to balance post-lost
Awake is this game
A joke at once forgot
For the jester, is best; sir
The child, a god.
copyright 2009- [U]Prayers of an Abstract Reality[/U]