Most Wonderfulness Of Because Poem by Robert Rorabeck

And now it is at its summit,
And you are here; while I will finally be casting away,
And sleeping;
While my thoughts of you will become ribbons and they
Will flow through your sisters’ hair and maybe it will be
That maybe as of yet they will never make it
Home,
But given enough breath and wishes, they will always have pretty
Yards to come up to and be petted;
And their heads will bask in the unions of daylight while
Their forefathers turn tricks in the lush amphitheatres
Of their fountains;
And thus, turning down like beds, they will become
The ripe old exegesis which I am sure that you always thought you
Knew; and this is the way that it always happened in which
You thought you was;
And so the long night yawned, cracked opened its geode,
And showed unto you especially the special ness of its
Most wonderfulness of because.