Tonight,
I'm sleepless again
like a burning candle, flickering alone
in the dim light,
and racking my brain,
not for a way to go, way up north,
to Alaska though the rush is always on.
It's as clear as the flowing water
in a stream at spring time
that I wasn't born with a silver spoon
in my mouth,
and never ponder
on the chance of carrying some yellow metal
in my mouth
to meet my maker
when it's time to push up the daisies.
Well, speaking of those pretty lasses,
if only,
with a stroke of genius,
I'd come up with more wondrous verses,
as resplendent as those nature's daughters
in delightful yellow dresses
to brighten up the gloomy world of some admirers,
it might be more sunshine
than to hit the goldmine
and live happily ever after for eternity.