I am resourceful and forthright; my imagination is adroit.
I wonder about prejudiced people; why they choose to exploit.
I hear the sound of pounding waves when my emotions are running high.
I see a nook with a fireplace when all of my plans have gone awry.
I want to make better choices; to be less inept; less maladroit.
I am resourceful and forthright; my imagination is adroit.

I pretend mostly in my dreams; awake I'm honest and truly frank.
I feel drawn to veracity which lies only in a cloudy bank;
I touch that cosmos with my mind; as it eludes my actual grip.
I worry one day I'll be alone, when I reach the end of life's trip.
I cry if I dwell on hurts past; or recall a failure in Detroit.
I am resourceful and forthright; my imagination is adroit.

I understand we're all diverse, each marching to a different drum.
I say to resist sweets is futile; its far easier to succumb.
I dream of health and happiness; of global travels both near and far.
I try to be pleasant to others, even when I find them bizarre.
I hope my books produce profit, provide insight and never exploit.
I am resourceful and forthright; my imagination is adroit.