I am
(and I’m not modest)
the most beautiful thing under the sun.
(“Lorazepam”
has a nice ring
to it.) I am
an unsheared lamb
bleating in the spring,
cutest thing under the sun.
I can
dance and I can sing—
I am
quite sure you can do the same
when harvest
time comes and you chirp in the sun
your grasshopper song.
(But my rhyme’s misplaced.)
I am
the most beautiful thing under the sun.
