My Master Is Poem by James McLain

When I look up
and my head is beneeth the clouds.
Can any thing less than that I accept?
My master is a window she looks out of.
She sees my head rise with the sun every morning.
I venteure to say she suggests that if you.
Look out the window tonight is the moon?
Full and breath takingly white in some places red.
From where the few sit it is pink.
My master is when I come through the clouds.
She makes me rise higher still.
She knows I am driven to her ambition.
My master knows that my heads full of secrets.
My secrets rest there in her thoughts.
She is my master I have no room for any other.