My Life Is A Song

Walking out of my world which was turning dangerously bland,

I chanced upon a desert in a faraway land,

Where the velvet sand was kissed by the sun's amber rays so bright,

And for miles around, there was not a soul in sight.

Then, in a pleasant paradox to the arid heat,
Lay a large oasis at some hundred feet,
I strode a little closer, and couldn’t believe my eyes,
Sprawled across was a green paradise.

Surrounding a gentle brook that made music so fine,
Stood scores of trees, of fir and pine,
Around which little elves and fairies trotted along,
Humming “My smile is my sunshine, my life is a song”.

I went to them and asked if they were aware,
Of the loveliest place on earth that ever was there,
They motioned towards the mountain at the aft of the stream,

Said, the view from there was a surreal dream.

I scaled up to the peak where the earth met the sky,

Ecstatic, I prayed for wings so I could fly,

Sheets of white were spread all over,

And I wished to freeze, right there, forever!

A resounding thwack shook me up from my daze,

I turned to see the boss offer a petulant gaze,

He said, "Of daisies and damsels you dream all day,

But if you don't spruce up now, you'll jolly well have to pay!"

Ah, so for the money and the status, I'll reconcile,

I'll clear up my work that's gathered in a pile,

Won't fuss today that my life is a whole lot of crap,

For I saw the beauty of the world in a short little nap.

Sorbet On Ice

I woke in a cringe to a mangy little wail,
'Twas one of those guys trying a futile Sunday morning sale,
I peeped out of my window with bleary eyes
To find a little lad selling sorbet on ice.

Shorn of the smile that a child should wear,
He was frail as a leaf, ready to tear,
As he caught my eye, he pleaded in earnest
To buy his sorbet, so he could be blessed.

I curbed my wrath and shooed him away,
How I hate being bugged on so early a Sunday!
I walked to the park just round the neighbourhood,
Thought the morning's fresh gale would do me some good.

A trepid mind then began counting its woes,
Of finances and farces, of friends and foes,
And just then a sorry sight caught my gaze,
When a wiry old lady tripped and fell flat on her face.

I rushed to her and helped her to her feet,
Blood streamed through her nose, she looked forlorn and beat,
Her confounded look bespoke the saga of her life,
One of separation, sorrow, soliloquy and strife.

I asked her if I could be of some help to her,
She said, ‘Oh yes, you very much can, kind Sir,
I’m looking for my son who has deserted me since long,
Without telling me what I did so wrong.’
Of her limitless love with passion she spoke,
‘I need to see him,’ she said with a choke,
‘I’m bereft of love, and I have little time
To gain his love, and forgiveness for my crime.’

I slinked away, in shame and regret,
For being thankless for what each day I get,
For little trifles that seemingly affect my plight,
I forget that I at least have my loved ones in sight.

As I wound round the street, I saw the same little lad,
Cowering under a tree, hungry and sad.
I ambled upto him and asked for a sorbet on ice,
And my day was made, when I saw the glee in his eyes.