Tell me of the marvelous…

Tell me of the marvelous…
Life is not some fallow field…
Or deep-bottomed clouds…
It is cool green grass sprinkled with buttercups.

Tell me of the heights you are capable of climbing…
And then what lay just a little higher…
Speak with a song and not a snarl…
Place the wind back into my sails.

Tell me of your many wonderful views…
You know, the ones flecked by sunbeams of the rising sun…
The grand sweep of your seas…
Too and fro, backwards, and forwards.

But I think you have forgotten how…

Instead, you tell of a grand roaring storm…
Your fears that rest in the shady depths…
With the longest, strangest looks…
Like a conductor abandoning the search for the next measure.

Don’t you see that you are made of the material of the heavens?
Capable of always having a view of Spring…
Pick yourself up and see that this is a dream and not a nightmare…
Your story has a very happy ending.

I love you,

Annie