Perspective

It’s a matter of perspective As this is all subjective And rather reflective So The Wishing Well Is where bad things dwell Stories I could retell, Show From a different point of view With varying levels of blue And mild deja vu, Though Knowing good and bad exist-- Neither will completely desist, For together they subsist-- Allows me to see (Her hand around my wrist) It’s all a matter of perspective. It’s like a bee, (Should I resist?) Merely protective (Will she make a sharp twist?) But honey is not free And pain is often the cost. Is a sparkling winter worth The early morning frost? It’s all a matter of perspective.