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For years I was an aspiring singer, performing in trendy nightspots,
And I sang my heart out each evening, in all of the local hotspots.

Among the enthusiastic locals, at long last I'd made myself a name,
As we remember a rich golden sun, for the colors of his dying flame!

Despite this major accomplishment, I yet found myself dissatisfied,
As the sun grew dissatisfied, when full moon would not be his bride.

Being ambitious I craved the big time, with all of its fine rewards,
As a starry night sky inspires dreaming, amassed in twinkling hordes!

I had no doubt that I was good, for audiences loved to hear me sing,
As the silvery sunlit rainbow, brings on melancholy upon its leaving.

I was earning a comfortable living, although I was by no means rich,
As October skies are ever friendly, in the fall season of the witch!

My engagements were in the big city, and often its adjacent suburbs,
And the active burnished days flew by, in excitement and rich colors.

But dissatisfaction kept returning, like an extremely unwelcome guest,
Like rarest thunderstorms of the desert, arriving completely unblest!

One evening in ripe smoky August, I was relishing a needful day off,
As storms and sun rarely meet, needfully avoiding the cruel face-off.

It was shortly after I'd eaten, and I sat on my front porch drowsing,
Listening to the dull drone of crickets, as fireflies went browsing!

The tree lined street was deserted, except for the many birds singing,
And thoroughly relaxed I dozed, all the while, still half listening.

A sudden pale patch of moonlight, lit the space beneath a maple tree,
And a robin flew down and turned into a man, continuing his rhapsody.

All at once I was wide awake, as golden butterflies flitted for home,
Rapt at the voice so smooth and mellow, like honey still in the comb!

Suddenly the chirping crickets grew louder, as if in lavish applause,
As the last notes of the song faded, like the habitual birdsong pause.

The bird-man vanished again into shadows, replaced by a whippoorwill,
And she sang a melancholy blues song, about trouble upon Cherry Hill.

The fireflies flashed on and off faster-it was their way of cheering,
As the entranced, colorful butterflies, repeatedly kept reappearing!

To the utter delight of all, next to perform was Yellow-breasted Chat
Who was cool as silver moonlight, as he was masterfully singing scat.

At the end other birds rang a chorus, of shrill whistling and hoots,
From their shadowy upper perches, all dressed up in flamboyant suits.

Next to sing was a wide eyed man, who had lately been a barred owl,
Who sang in the deepest voice ever heard, as stars were on the prowl!

Next in the spotlight was Lady Loon, with her plaintive loud yodeling,
In a beautiful country rendition, about a long anticipated homecoming.

Following that, to my pleasant surprise, Blue jay sang elevator music,
Before flying back up the treetops, where the greenery was very thick.

As I sat there on my porch swing, I had sparkling stardust in my eyes,
Savoring the magic summer evening, full of beauty and natural surprise!

Like the surprise of the secluded valley, yielding unexpected delights,
Of waterfalls wildlife and colors, of unobstructed stars, pearly white.

Last to sing was Mr. Mockingbird, who mimicked all the songs just heard,
In the style of nuanced pop music, while the merry crowd was flattered.

I have grown with passing time, and I am now happy with life as it is,
As fond desires can hold false bliss, I prefer nightclubs among roses! 

My discontent left that night, for each of us has a destiny to realize,
And every one of them is critical, all adding to life's great surprise!
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