Poetry: Why?


I woke up this morning, tired as always

and asked the Sun how she was feeling.

She smiled brightly at me.

I furrowed my brow and jumped out of bed.

With a jump in my step,

I ran outside and called for the Sun.

“Yes dear,” she replied.

I smiled and knew that’s what I wanted to hear.

“I have some questions.”

And so I asked:

Why is the sky blue?

Why do flowers bloom?

Why do bees sting?

Why do you make the sky pink at sunset?

Why does grass grow?

Why are clouds fluffy?

Why is it warm?

Why do waves crash on the shore?

Why do mountains scrape the sky?

Why are there so many things I don’t know?

The Sun laughed.

She nodded at me.

“Think, my dear.”



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