If I dined at a place well acclaimed for its class
With a fine meal before me, would I care to know
What the others are eating? That wouldn’t make sense.
I’m consumed in my own meal. I’d harbor defense
If I looked at another’s plate in envy though
I am satisfied fully. How green is my grass?

If I went to the park for a breath of fresh air
And decided to leave the wheelchair in the car
And get by with my double canes, could I ignore
All the looks of concern? Could I know what’s in store?
There’s a reason that things are the way that they are.
It may seem life is bountiful yet seldom fair.

There’s too much information. Sometimes I’m unclear
As to what makes one’s grass green and keeps it that way.
Greens are made of the mixtures of yellows and blues.
Life in focus is made up of various hues
Of our wants and our needs as we live day to day
And this side of the fence is my chosen frontier.