The treasures of Heaven are vast and expansive
And lists of their contents are long
Though it may be presumptive
I shall take some comfort in
Putting some down in this song
There are mountains of feathers
For birds
And for poems not yet written
The words
And entire sections
Of man’s imperfections
Down aisles of infinite length
There would I tarry
It’s all cash and carry
If only were given the.strength k.
The angels and saints
Play softball at night
They rarely argue
And never do fight
When at odds on a call
They agree all
That two wrongs always makes right!
