Marvel

At the dewdrop delicately balancing on the leaf,
Unmatched by any tightrope walker in any circus.
At the flock cutting across the sky,
An annual journey I could not compete with in a lifetime.
At the sky, oh the sky,
All the painters with all the paint could not paint its hues.
At the ant, scurrying about its job,
What does Wall Street have to that ant?
At the indomitable cockroach, wriggling after being crushed,
No Howard Roark could out-spirit that cockroach.
At the beauty of cities,
Are they ever so beautiful as when you're leaving them?

Is the sun ever so beautiful as when it bids goodnight?


Being all sentimental and shit,
~Sam.