Henry McHenry lived in a tree
And for he,
It was the only,
Well, the only place to be.
Each day he would listen,
To his thoughts with intent
Devising a way,
To be less, discontent
Not that he did not,
Enjoy all he’d acquired
He looked everyday,
And everyday he admired.
His achievements were grand,
From intentions to inventions
With gadgets and gizmos,
Beyond all convention
Made from odd things,
Only the bold could acquire
Wrestled from wreckage,
And things less desired
Items no one wanted
Discarded and rotten
Broken and battered
And sometimes forgotten
Items of inspiration
Others considered worthless
Though Henry’s discontentment
Valued them as priceless
So Henry’s irritation
Was meant to teach a lesson
For Henry, discontentment
Really was a blessing
It moved him to be different
Caused him to achieve
Reminded him to dream
What no one would believe
Henry McHenry lived in a tree
And for he
It was the perfect
The perfect place to be!
This is a repost ...just because I love this poem, and more important....MY SON...whom inspires me!
