Tell me...

The Sun asked of its child, what will you do

with your one wild and precious Life?

she moved slowly, around the thought,

another day, another year yawning at the girth.

Oh! to let it all hang, now, but she measured the waist,

Seems all the forms have spread, from the equator belt

Some sort of pull between North and South, perhaps

it is time for a corset and girdle, to hold it in, and

ready myself again for the annual Solar Ball, whence

the other planets line up, to dance amidst the stars...

Rumor has it, maybe it's someone else's turn to carry??