7 am the usual morning line up,
Start on the chores and sweep til the floor's all clean.
Polish and wax, do laundry and mop and shine up.

Sweep again and by then it's like 7:15

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 re-read the books if I have time to spare
I'll paint the walls some more, I'm sure there's room somewhere

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 wondering, and wondering, and wondering, and wondering when will my life begin?


Tomorrow night,
The lights will appear,

Just like they always 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...