Whining wailers never know when,
opportune moments ever begin.
An angry man hath his eyes closed,
not a bit of triumph ever he knows.
I smile and nod my gratitude,
to vets in wheelchairs "in their fortitude"
down syndrome children‘s, little aptitude,
courage, in the plight of such magnitudes.
Gratitude begets beatitudes.
Gratefully I recharge my attitude.
I smile when in conflict, I am stewed,
a notion of locomotion, in attitude.
I smile and rejoice in summer’s breeze.
I drink noble coffee in a winter’s freeze.
My conscience is clear I am at peace,
watching each fall the geese fly east.
Gratitude begets these beatitudes.
in diligence, I secure my attitude.
In smiles each day my life is renewed,
by love’s theory of moving subdued.
I praise in amaze on a rainy day,
every mud puddle in which children play,
I love their laughter and frolic, quite gay.
"Gratitude doth beget it's master’s pay."