And make my chalk lines straighter.
Then count the rocks upon the floor;
Then count them backwards later.
I'll touch the stones upon the walls
As high as I can reach,
Then think of all the fruits I miss,
Like apples and a peach.
I'll look at the ceiling for a month or two,
Then the floor until July;
I won't blink through the month of August,
Or at least I'll give it a try.
Maybe I'll stand for a couple of weeks,
Without ever shifting my feet.
Or create a new language I'll speak with myself,
By chattering my teeth.
I could open my mouth or scratch my head
Or hold my breath again;
There are so many things I could do this year,
Where should I begin?
I need to write a song or two
And sing them to myself.
I need to finally buckle down
And catch that invisible elf.
I'd like to trim my fingernails,
But my teeth are mostly gone;
Or braid my hair and beard and chest,
Which last year I postponed.
I'd better get started so I can get through -
I'm beginning these today.
"Oh Heck!" I counted my chalk lines wrong!
It's really only May.
