If there were deserts to cross
Maybe oceans washing over our toes,
Could be expanses of skies to beckon,
Even arctic landscape to nip at our nose.
These the excitement of adventure,
Are out there somewhere I'm sure.
Sort of mild and lacklustre our days,
Here on the home front with chores to stir.
Did Johnny learn the right foot from the left?
Was Sissy given a hug when she awoke?
Have they both learned to love broccoli?
Are the manners of greeting guests spoke?
No chart of methodical enterprise,
Nothing great and gifted of goals won.
No recording of massive statues completed,
Only days with children's laughter and fun.
Still, there is no art wide enough,
No photography great and plentiful around
To bring to the world the joy of this
Pictures of the garments of love surround.