I had to write a token poem about the optimism of a brand-new day, but then got to wondering: What makes a perfect life? Leave it to me to wonder what's for dinner in Heaven. Here's a three-pack of hopeful little poems.
Dewy starts the day—
Hopeful young and new, all things
Covered in sparkling dew.
My perfect life—
Hot rich quick and young always
With wind in my hair.
We eat in Heaven?
Drink? Screw? Play games? Sudoku?
We live beneath clouds.