perched on a sapling

 

i know my years gone by are too many too soon

my feels are that i have but scratched the surface

of a life not always well lived, although i have

painted my own canvas

 

i feel like a young bird that is perched on a sapling

singing my little heart to make rise my first morning

sun and not realizing the sapling i am perched upon l

will grow to be a grand old oak

 

in the morning the breath i take, although mine eyes

have not closed, transitioned from daytime reveries

to nighttime dreams, may be the first of the rising sun

but may also be my last

 

these words that i write today may be those of someone

else reading them long after my incarnate shell has

released its spirit, its soul from the tethers of this world,

from this transitory mortal stay

 

and whoever you are that is reading these words, please

sing them and never cease singing, for this sapling you’re

perched on will grow grand but you and she will depart

too soon, leaving your songs on this short sojourn