I inherited a restaurant, from my parents who had retired.
It was a classy one, and only the best of staff were hired.
Overseeing its operation, was genuinely a labor of love,
As the noon warming sunshine, oversees lemony clouds above.
My passion and my pleasure, was to create brand new recipes;
And our able chef would have, them on the menu in a breeze.
Those dishes were popular, for I'd had some culinary training;
I was rehearsing for an upcoming play, but it wasn't going well,
For I somehow lacked inspiration, and my delivery did not excel.
If only I could read more feelingly, I uttered with a sad sigh,
I would not fade away in the shadows, watching fame pass me by!
After many more attempts, I finally surrendered to my fatigue,
Completely dissatisfied and wishing, my success were guaranteed.
As I stood at my bedroom window, looking up at the pale stars,
After wishing me a good morning, he said that it was all set,
It was time to raze the house, even though I wasn't in debt!
But they wanted to build a big highway, exactly in this spot,
Like a beaver zealously builds his dam, by any means he's got.
The city had emminent domain, which was certainly the way of it.
Though offered twice the home's value, I liked it not one bit.
"The tree on this lot is a hundred years old," I said to the man,
I was a hopeful actress, but so far had only been offered bit parts,
And I fought to pay the bills, as a starlit owl, working after dark.
But because I had such huge dreams, I had been struggling for years,
Like a heart brimming with big emotions, is holding back the tears!
I knew I was an amazing actress, yet there were many others like me,
Making it quite hard to choose, like selecting cherries from a tree.
And there were times when I wondered, if I'd ever hit the big time,
It was late in gorgeous springtime, and I was teaching my class,
A lesson in African history, and the events of time's hourglass.
My fourth graders were very attentive, as I recounted the glory,
Of tales such as Mansa Musa's, maybe the richest man in history!
Sultan of Mali was Mansa Musa, during the far off Middle Ages,
The world's largest gold producers maybe, say the history sages.
When Mali consisted of 400 cities, he was a patron of the arts.
A rich harvest of bliss, in every hue comes drifting down,
Painting the wilderness all colors, in nature's playground!
Sweet sun is setting scarlet as red fruit on high,
In a sizzling beauteous exit-apple pie in the sky!
We are caught up in the middle, of our passionate love affair,
In a world still so young, sweet dreams can blossom anywhere!
I had for long been an arborist, enthusiastically caring for the trees,
Like a grasshopper immersed in a green world, is glad for all he sees.
I had always loved nature, having begun gardening when I was a child,
As bluebirds rise up singing very early, in tangled precincts so wild.
It was foreseeable that this passion, would emerge as my life's work,
As an artist might strive for years, creating a masterpiece artwork!
I was also familiar with various birds, as a result of this vocation,
I used to be obsessed with fashion, caring far too much about clothes,
Like the sun whenever he's coming and going, is striking vanity's pose.
I lavished absurdly upon my wardrobe, in excess of what was practical,
Like the glittering rainbow colors, proffer more than what is passable!
Though I wasn't an awful person, in this one area, I admit I was vain,
As the seasons, once departed, flaunt beautiful faces again and again.
I regularly read fashion magazines, and kept up with current trends,