I can see, hear, feel, taste and touch

All of my senses are intact, and much

And I do use them day in and day out

Sometimes so much, I do loudly shout



With the ecstasy and pleasure I do feel

To be part of a life without any keel

To guide me along in this vast ocean

Where play is part of my work's motion



And as I use them, going through it all fair

I sometimes wish there was one to share

With me - this open canvas which shines

With paint I tenderly brush on with vines



Which gaze out at me - eagerly beckoning

Me to tease them with my clear reckoning

And as I fondle them with my gentle touch

I know they will eventually wither as much



Has been said now about this fertilization

Which is used to grow spicier libations

And as they prepare to transplant roots

I become more greatly aware of soot



Which blows upon this pretty garden

So filled with words which harden

Where they do come from is mystery

Solved only by reading its history



- Tristram