The grays of my life are neither black or white.
They are grays that don't really matter.
I know the perfect storm isn't perfection
it is nothing but merely heavy showers.
I ride the sea of bluster and befuddlement
in my hand-woven boat of love and compassion.
I take to the skies in my flying machine
along with my cat and dog and indolent dreams.
My life spins round like a carousel,
swings madly about like a rollercoaster.
It's the cotton candies, chocolates and caramels
and cakes and cookies that really matter.
I used to think life has a color chart
that measure a person's distinctive features,
but life is much more than a piece of art
it is all there is and none that makes it a wonder.