Not Fair

It’s Not Fair

It’s not fair, you know, 

To the gardens’ flowers,

That you are in constant bloom:

Fragrant and vibrant and alive.

It’s not fair, you know, 

To the high-heavens’ stars,

That you are ever-shining:

Twinkling, constant, to set charts by.

It’s not fair, you know, 

To the sun’s blinding dawn,

That you are never setting:

The best, brightest part of each day.

It’s not fair, you know:

To the birds in the sky,

To the moon in the vast cosmos,

To the air that we breathe,

To the songs that we sing,

To the wheat on fertile fields,

To the land and the seas,

To the princes in palaces,

To the angels among us.

It’s not fair, you know, 

To the longing poets,

That you are all—only—mine:

Inspiration for all I do.  

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