How Can Life Be Dull?We must ask ourselves,How can life be dullIf every single momentIs original?
The Snow-white ManI look up and down the lane,Staring longingly at each and everyFrosted, windswept window pane;I peer into each blessed hearth-warmedHome, into those fires burning everSo bright; I look into the sitting-roomsAnd gaze at those giant green firsGarnished in shining orbs of eachAnd every hue; I see thoseRosy-cheeked children, their softFeatures bent into such sunny smiles,Their bellies bouncing with suchGleeful giggles as they run andSkip across shiny oaken floors,Over gold-and-red fringed rugs, andAgain on oaken floors, thenInto and out of steamy kitchens,Kitchens of silver and gleaming gold;I watch as fathers
Oh ReflectionOh Reflection,Sometimes I cannot tellWhether it is you or IThe liar. We are butA ripple away, And would beNearer in likenessThan the crow isTo the raven,Were it notFor your inabilityTo breathe.
I'm glad you like it