My soul and I are disagreed.
He wants food for thought,
And I want scrambled eggs.
'Look here, ' I say. 'Seein' how it's me
What's doing the cooking,
You bring me something solid for a change
And I'll make you a scrambled thought.'
We settle for a piece of toast,
Dealing one to each;
And share a cup of coffee, hot.
Now I'm thinkin' I want
Boysenberry jam,
And he's got something in his teeth
And won't eat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Haha. But it's does happen. Almost like an out-of-body experience. While perusing, I giggled at the personified state of the invisible soul here. Techniques well applied; figures, well employed.
Life is a seesaw. Levity, I find, is the great leveler when the Gravity of a situation is approaching the playground. :)