Life is all about enjoying the little things. This poem to me is all about finding joy and creating your own. It also speaks to the child in me, which I tap into as frequently as I possibly can.
When you spit from the twenty-sixth floor
And if floats on the breeze to the ground
Does it fall upon hats
Or on white persian cats
Or on heads, with a pitty-pat sound?
Oh, I used to think life was a bore
But I don’t feel that way any more
As count up the hits,
As I smile as I sit,
As I spit from the twenty-sixth floor.
Where the Sidewalk Ends