Happy Umbrella

Stacked away in a bitter casket,

Dust, drool, and insect drops,

Slept under it my nylon sheath.

Oh you mighty Earth, I screamed,

Would you let my beholder unleash,

And free me from captivity.

Dark and dingy,

Crumbled up into a bare stick.

I was born to see light,

I was made to smell gushing wind,

I was bent to shield rain,

I was clothed to embrace snow.

I empathize with the ghastly unknown,

Also, my apathies to its wildering confusions.

It’s just a little too morbid,

I wallow my content.

One is made to embrace beauty,

Soak in colour and lust.

I hear a loud thunder,

I see skies burn,

I feel the chills,

The browny rusty lid is torn apart.

Cold, wet, shivery grip,

Jolts my web into the open.

With it the worm layer flies.

Out of the box,

I wonder,

Only this being reality,

Strikes me hard,

Yet I am a contented soul,

Yet I am a parasol,

And now I am a happy umbrella.