Changing Times

We wanted to know and not to be told
that the fastest way to heaven was in a row boat.
Snap snap.

It needs be a slow boat because I’m not partial to change.
The slower it goes, the easier on the eye as scenes come and go,
But *to my eyes* they all look the same.
And then I can more easily convince myself that life stays the same.
And have a good grumble.

Change happens?

Sure.
But nothing big.
Nothing too drastic.
Nothing which could upset my equilibrium.

But gone be the days of sluggish movement
And the grumble and groan that makes naught right
Be banished to the heavens this idea of perfection
before we do anything out right.

This little boat of mine
Tossed admist the seas of time
Will carry me forward
Where ever I go
As I open my eyes and
accept the change of times

And row, row, row.
Snap, snap.