Insure My Blooming Self

Insure My Blooming Self

A singer can insure their voice,
So every note remains their choice,
A dancer dances all night long,
A singer needs the perfect song.

Some people even insure their hands,
Protecting what their work demands,
But I need something more, you see,
There’s far too much to insure in me.

I want to insure my busy brain,
In case one day it goes insane,
Insure my head, my thoughts, my thinking,
And make my pen keep on ink drinking.

Insure my fingers, every one,
Because without them I’m undone,
They tap and scribble day and night,
Whatever my brain tells them to write.

A poet needs to think and write,
And burn the words by day and night,
Regardless of their health or age,
The words must find that empty page.

Insure the rhymes inside my head,
The ones that wake me up in bed,
Insure the weird ones waiting there,
The ghosts, the grannies and the bear.

Insure my pen, it works so hard,
It never gets a thank-you card,
It drinks more ink than I drink tea,
That pen deserves a policy.

Insure my eyes so I can see,
The next great rhyme that comes to me,
Insure my ears in case I hear,
A poem whispering in my ear.

The insurance man may shake his head,
“You want what covered?” he might have said,
“My brain, my fingers, thoughts and pen,
And when you’ve done that, check again.”

So write the policy, make it grand,
Insure my brain and both my hands,
Insure my pen and all my health,
Just insure my whole blooming self.

For one fine day before I’m done,
I’ll show them all what I have won,
My name in print — now that’s true wealth,
And my own book upon the shelf.