The Bucket List
The bucket stands in the corner,
Of the kitchen all alone.
Empty like my dreams and hopes,
Of things never accomplished,
In this life of mine.
So I sit down and,
Write a list of things,
I will do before I die.
Yes, I'll call it my bucket list.
The bucket will hold all,
The things that I've done.
All my wishes, hopes, and,
Prayers that I've wanted to do.
I have a new expectation,
Of the things I've truly,
Been devoted about.
These things do not need to,
Be materialistic just things,
That I feel In my heart and soul.
I feel so much better about,
The future than I have before.
My spirit glows with anticipation.
My soul warms to the thought,
Of what I will be able to find,
In this world I have yet to see.
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