7 am, the usual morning lineup:
Start on the chores and sweep
'til the floor's all clean,
Polish and wa , do laundry,
and mop and shine up
Sweep again,
And by then
It's like 7:15.
And so I'll read a book
or maybe two or three
I'll add a few new
paintings to my gallery
I'll play guitar and knit,
and cook and basically
Just wonder when will my life begin?
Then after lunch it's puzzles
and darts, and baking
Paper mache, a bit of ballet and chess
Pottery and ventriloquy, candle making
Then I'll stretch,
Maybe sketch,
Take a climb, sew a dress!
And I'll reread the books
if I have time to spare
I'll paint the walls some more,
I'm sure there's room somewhere.
And then I'll brush and brush,
and brush and brush my hair
Stuck in the same place
I've always been.
And I'll keep wonderin' and wonderin',
and wonderin', and wonderin'
When will my life begin?
Tomorrow night the lights will appear
Just like they do on
my birthday each year.
What is it like out
there where they glow?
Now that I'm older, mother
might just
let me go.
