I put my boots on to wade through the marshes of my mind,
With sticky bracken and fresh gum leaves of a kind.
I know I should have stuck around, seen the party to its end,
But honestly I’d rather catch butterflies and the road beyond the bend.
I never found any treasure as I trod the muddy way,
But when I look around at where I am, I’m glad I didn’t stay.
For that one room sort of crowded me, and pushed me out of myself,
Besides I’d rather climb the raging hills, than sit safely on a shelf.
One Poem Every Day
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