“when will my life begin?”
7 am, the usual morning lineup:
start on the ch*r*s 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.
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?
and tomorrow night,
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 …