I’m always looking for the next thing,
Which usually happens around spring.
When I’m done with the fling,
I go out on just one wing.

Where do I go?
How can I grow?
When all I have to show
Are all of my woes.

When I get where I’m going,
Memories will be flowing,
And I may be reaping what I was sowing,
But I must keep rowing

Down the river
So I can deliver
My promise to my liver
That I will be a forgiver.

I dream of being free
To travel the green,
But it’s hard to foresee
That as a guarantee.

Yet I will fight
With all my might
To see the sights
And shine as bright,

For the rainbow
That they know
May reach a plateau
As above and so below.