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.
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