Stomping On Sensibility
Wet paint glistens and gleams,
Reeks of 'do not touch me' aroma.
But you just can't resist prodding a finger in,
Leaving finger stuck, and paint job ruined.
Why, Oh why, can't you leave well enough alone.
Warning signs clear in friend's eyes
Looking down and away,
Disengaged not contacting eye to eye.
But you have to poke, prod and intrude.
Why, Oh why, can't you leave well enough alone.
Sensibility is sensible sensitivity.
It is knowing when and how far
To put your toe in the water,
Before the foot sinks right in.
Why, Oh why, can't you leave well enough alone.
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