Dancing like a 3yr old boy (in gumboots)

 

In the past five years

I’ve written lines of bleakness

wordy strings of worry

lamentations upon the world,

critiques of politicians' behavioural shame.

Somber, has crept into my vocab,

like sobriety into my fridge,

or my own humility in a crowded room.

I do not embrace these feelings of somberness.

However, on a sunny day like this

I get to dance with my moko boy,

his face crinkling with joy,

as he leaps in the air spreading magic.

He is my aroha mai in gumboots.

 

Yet, the news still stinks,

creeping in my room,

sending out shocks of gloom,

while I scan the horizon for warships

and I search the seashore for polar bears who’ve lost their way.

Misery has stolen my pen,

it’s time to make fun of life,

tease some friend, make the somberness end.

I'm about to create some tom-fluckery,

have a laugh,

‘cos if you’ve ever seen me dance,

you know I’m not somber...

I dance like a three year old boy in gumboots.

 

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