Monday, September 5, 2011


If I were as tall as a giraffe, I'd still be shorter than the oldest tree.
If I were something that I'm not, then well I'd be someone else.
I'd say it's a hard thing getting out of bed, but truthfully I'd be a fool.
My legs work, and so do my arms.

Now, mustering up the courage to face the bright dawn of a new day, well that's another story.
I'd like to be a coward, it seems it is easiest that way.
But today I will press forward into the terrifying light of today.

Yesterday is hanging onto my coat tails and I'm positive that he really doesn't know the meaning of space.
I told him I'm moving on, but he just won't let go.
He's begging for one last kiss, I'll slip him a tear instead.

Oh tomorrow has grabbed my hand, trying to pull me forward.
I haven't taken the time to prepare, and I haven't washed my hair.
I shouldn't have blinked, my life has blown by like a hurricane nightmare.

I'm guessing that one of these days I'll wake up to the sound of whistling birds.
And I'll cut my pie in thirds, and we'll finish all of our vegetables as we drift into the night.
We'll look up to the sky and take in the delight.

I think we'll end the night with the warmth of each other.
Wrapped up in warm woolen blankets, looking up into the stars.
I'll put my hand in yours, and you'll look into my eyes.

Softly you whisper, "You're the giraffe that could reach the leaves at the top of my tree."

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