As my eyes met the tape measure
I felt the fire rear up in my heart
And I knew that in the future
I could measure
In metric or imperial units
How high those heart-flames soared.
Some people mocked my passion,
Said I’m weird for longing
To know how long my longing was,
But I say its better than being bored.
When I feel that need to now how I feel
And I pull out that flexible metal bar
And with each box, each wall I measure
The heavens ring with a music
Only it and I can hear,
A cord’s secret chord.
And somewhere in that tape measure
That sings our hidden music
I hope its heart is happy
Knowing my pocket will be its home
And gone are the days
When its passions were ignored.
Filed under Poems
Tagged as Funny, Happiness, Humor, Love, Passion, poems, Poetry, Postaday, Random, Tools, Travesty, Weird