The bucket list, who coined the term, is what I want to know.
As if my life, for what it is, can be caught like water's flow.
Impossible. I can't do this! Why should I go and try?
There are many days I want to sit and have a good ol' cry.
Travel arrangements, time off from work, can I use a sick day?
Who is going to water my plants? Who is going to pay?
Motion sickness, fear of heights, have I mentioned clowns?
Whose idea was this? I think I'm going to drown.
What is this? How beautiful! How very breathtaking.
Look at all those little fish! Look at that coral ring!
You can see for miles up here. Each peak and green valley.
My heart is full, and I now know "From sea to shining sea."
Last came the clowns, who did their best to fill me full of dread.
I faced the fear written on my list, then turned around and fled!
Not all the stuff within my bucket was met with great success.
But I did them, each and every one. (The clowns I would suppress.)
Now I'm tired from traveling, and my bank account is scant.
Still, I would do it all again. There's no such word as "can't".