When people ask me "what is the good in life?",

I tell them it's easy, effortless to say,

But to see,  you must look past the anger ran rife, 

To understand why there is a day-to-day.

It's the blue sky, the birds, the chirping in the trees,

It's the happy, buzzing little bumblebees,

It's the rose color cheeks my sister has on a winter day,

And it's the final twirl a leaf gives before it lands on my father's toupee.

It's the soft kiss my mother gives before we climb to bed,

It's the dreams that enter my sleepy, academia-leaden head,

It's the music that fills every nook and cranny of silence,

And it's the skyscrapers that are artistic, majestic giants.

What isn't good? That would be the better question

For though there is ugly in our befouled blood,

Riots and gangs and economic recession, 

Under all that lies What Is Good.