I Push Poem by James McLain

You pull the hope, is it to much? Faith
cannot bear such strain.
I would rather push up daisies, than be
drown't in a puddle of dreams.
I fumble foot balls, the referee gives them back.
Fouls fly north in my winter, tears flow forward
into your eye, much deserved.It seems.
I have breached no damns, yet the beaver knows, It flows.
I wonder through the wilderness, with out a reference to a hat, while
duck without a bill rests on the tail of the beaver, inking a quill.
The queen will hear about that, it is to late to flee, these, the acts,
you did presume in park, now you must play, the pipers part.