The crunch of the apple and the tang of its skin
makes me smile, makes me laugh, makes me drink the ripe in.
This is me in a sunbeam on a not-so-hot day
looking for something to inspire my play.
There's a bonnie bright sky bellowing blue overhead,
herding the clouds to the end of my sight,
and sheltering my mind, my heart and my head
from all that reality will bring to this fight.
Laugh harder and drive, I think to me in my car
as I wonder whether a tankfull will get me too far.
My lunch time is halting and sputtering to an end,
soon responsibility will pull me away, my good friend.
I can't escape now, but I don't really want to.
That's a truth I now choke on, surprised and alarmed.
Since when do I sit all day long at a desk
and feel rewarded, controlled and disarmed?
This is it now, grab on, your only last shot,
for the school bell's to ring, and the iron's so hot.
Don't worry about jumping from this runaway train.
Que sera, sera. It's about credit, not blame.