Breathing freedom and fresh air,
Escaped the fiery dragons lair,
Though it might be way below,
Thought it best leave and go,
Twenty eight to be exact, a breeze,
If you do not move, you sure will freeze,
Those poor little critters out there in the cold,
For a moment on warm hands I hold,
I do ask them to come home with me,
But bluntly they sing; I rather am free,
That really hurts, it makes me feel,
To go back a slave, I’m such a heel,
But they’re right, for comforts sake,
The freedom of my life forsake,
Sure the hole I call a home,
Have a TV and a phone,
Some amenities and food,
A place to rest if in the mood,
But forty years of work, no play,
On this place the debt to pay,
I ask myself, was it worth the pain,
In the end what is the gain,
The bank is paid, but now the taxman,
Has no shame takes what he can,
I tell you, that little nest build out of grass,
Mortgage free, consumes no gas,
On a tree it sits instead of grass,
No tax assessments either has
From grade one to hundred five,
Just for a place, to stay alive,
Who the hell is smarter here?
I think, you can see it clear.
Very well it might all be,
Go back to university,
Pay some kind tuition fee,
To teach me like the birds be free,
No sooner had that thought occurred,
Now back home the dragon stirred,
Breathed heavy fire, said she, for warming,
It is this comfort, I find charming.
24/01/2009
©Jasmin Horst E.P. Seiler
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Georg
Walt
Blessings from Ky.
Joyce B.