Television Poem

I can’t think of any fun
Cause rain has chased the sun.
All the flowers have closed,
and they are what I love most.
I want to fly to another place,
where I can watch the sun and gaze.
I will feel the flowers bloom
and know the summer’s coming soon.

But still wet raindrops fall down.
If I was outside I would drown.
I dream of vanilla and vetiver,
but I am far from there.
Or maybe I aint?
The black box stands there as a saint.
I’ve got butterflies in my belly
as I am turning on the telly…