With Love

by Sylvia Stout

growing up is hard because
life is what you make it
is it real or are we faking?
trying to remember what’s at stake

when it all lies before you
just ripe for the taking
decisions just ripe for the making
knowing time can’t unwind
if you’re mistaken
remember this rhyme
so don’t be miss taken
don’t be mr. mothafuckinfaking, cus

love can be cruel
life can be short
greed can try to rule
and power can be lorded
over you, so

keep ya clues
keep your faith
keep the blues
keep the lake
keep your friends and your family safe
by being you, doing what you do, fearless
smile at a lost soul even if they scream danger
don’t be earless, don’t be eyeless, don’t be voiceless
but don’t become a stranger
in a land you once favored, so

dance with the boys and
laugh with the girls
cry with the ones who’ve lent their shoulder,
whose cup runneth over with laughter
seems solely the clowns can capture
the depth of a butterflies well
joyfully, they cry; “there is no hell”

we don’t fear, we love,
we don’t run, we love,
we don’t shrink, we don’t shrug,
we give thanks and praise to up above
With Love, we love.

A. Gibson said it best
She was put to the test and said,
“life doesn’t rhyme.”

She was right.

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