Perspective

The man with no imagination Sits alone in his chair He lives quite an interesting life. His walls are all slate His shelves are all clean He lives with no joy and no strife. His oceans never roar His skies are all dark His rain doesn’t wash away the past His trees never sway His birds only chirp His clouds are all shapeless and flat His moon has no face His hills never roll His sun only sunburns his back My life is all blue And green, red, and bright My room is a loud yellow-green I’m happy and sad (Depending on the day) But I can also be angry and mean My tongue tastes the rain My trees sway back and forth My birds sing me songs from their beds My clouds take on shapes My moon smiles at me My sun sets and turns my world red! The man with no imagination Turned to me looking sad And he got up and came to my side I took his hand And showed him the world (Well, I showed him the world through my eyes)