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This is the story of my life,
So filled with joys and strife;
This is the story of my days--
Through countless doorways!

This is the story of my dream--
And of my shimmering moonbeam.
This is my brief tale of woe--
The tale of sunsets all aglow.

This is the narrative of me,
Of all that I saw and do see.
This is the symphony of myself,
And of wishes left on the shelf.

This is the tale of my pretty--
The tale of my cherished kitty!
A tale of my lush gardens green,
And of the raptures I have seen!

This is the telling of my past,
Of the ship that came in at last;
A tale of quaint, pert, red robin,
And of that fellow I knew back when.

A recall to hot days and nights,
And imagination's strange flights!
This is the tale of butterflies,
And the awakening morning skies.

This tells about where I went--
The places filled with wonderment!
This is the only answer to "Who?"
The me no one at all ever knew.

It is also a tale of bittersweet,
Summer heat and of people to meet.
Of a triumph, and then a setback;
Sunlight fades; the moon is black!

This is the story of great bliss,
And perilous teetering at the abyss.
I sing of my little friend bluejay,
And of my sweet little nosegay.

This is the sole factual true blue,
That the fates could not subdue,
A tale of deepest shadows at noon,
And my scented garden of the June.

This is the story of all of my kin,
Who will be, and who've already been.
It solves for the great mystery of me,
And for the mystery of the honeybee!

The silly, sad, sordid, truth of it,
Is it was just awful--and exquisite!
I danced at night, then sang at dawn,
And I was at times sad and withdrawn!

I laughed real loud; cried very hard,
Dreamt flowers strewed the boulevard!
A lifelong love of all things wild,
A lifelong love of all things mild.

This is the story of my education,
Of my failure and my compensation;
And a tale of my human condition,
And also of my deepest contrition.

A true tale of the blue black nights,
And of the festive July candle lights,
And the rich food that I have tasted,
And all the endless time I've wasted.

Of that book that I couldn't put down,
And the many nights out on the town,
A tale of grave danger and survival,
And of love's unexpected arrival!

This is the history of my wanting;
That tells of my memories haunting!
This, I expect, explains the how,
Of day one evolving into the now.

This is a tale of my dream flight,
Real as the fireflies every twilight,
When the sun has gone and slowly died,
Because sun and moon never collide!

I bequeath these lines to the ages,
To the youth and to elderly sages;
It's about the things I can't condone,
And how I slipped on mossy stones.

Of how I hiked in the autumn woods,
And was oftentimes misunderstood.
And how much I enjoyed a good movie,
And thought sixties music was groovy!

And though it was sometimes nebulous,
All things considered, it was fabulous!
Because of all the bright hued rainbows,
And certainly not least, the moonglows.
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