They say you should try to succeed. Onward, upward, towards that great next promotion.
That’s why they call our group the yuppies.
But we differ from our parents generation. Not that same suit and tie. No sir!
Just our little hush puppies.
Drown in the rising warm sea.
Temperatures you have never seen.
The mask you wear tells me you find it hard to breathe.
At one time the sky was a joy to be beneath.
We had our fun.
Over to you son.
I let you see this wonderful world. That sweet smell, that’s me too. The touch of her skin is my gift to you. Oh, you like spicy chili do you? You can tell me your thoughts because you know I can hear.
I opened the little brown box this morning and found a small package wrapped in clear bubble pack. A note was attached. Unwrapping it I found a severed digit. The note read, “Your wish has been granted Sir. Here’s your green thumb.”
