In my book of whimsies

lines are imprinted with fuzzy ink

adorning pages cover to cover

in eminent blend, possibility and fiction

hold on firmly as any rush

to reason and logic are abandoned

intuition sneezes at should be

desire kindles fires of impetuosity

caution has been dutifully exiled

from my evolving semantics

frivolity has leased my emotions

with keeness of whetted blade

my senses eloped to their zenith

let no possibility pass me by

that I will not explore

every door I will throw open

expecting joy and excitement

to greet, embrace in broad smile

a buck and a wing I'll execute

in my book of whimsies

no last page nor ending exists

rapid pulse sets my tempo

all thoughts seek awe and more

peruse a page everyday

if you've fancy enough to ignore

the ilk of status quo's bore

and join my parade of zany events