Not Long at All

i’ve wacked my tally

and dilled my dally

and all our storms are in a port

we only grill in the galley

i've collected my nonsense

in a brown paper jar

looks highly effective

it's chance of existence

or better yet

the span if it’s life

less than that of a butterfly

i hiked and i hitched

i moaned and i bitched

whenever i felt the need

to travel and complain

i made a whole navy

of paper boats one summer

and i floated that fine fleet in the rain

i would not be conquering

the world this day

my fleet and all my dreams

were either sodden and sunk

or swept down the nearest drain

i'd stand there bewildered

unable to curse

my gutter once a majestic port

now just littered

with the remnants

of another little boys imagination

thinking back

the butterfly has long been gone

i'm tired as i groan

the world has grown long indeed

we are supposed to be thankful

but somedays

it just gets old

...

..

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