The Opposite of a To-Do List

The Opposite of a To-Do List by Lady J - 2012©

We are protective leaves, we are weird fishes. 
We are magnetic rocks, we are odd music. 
We are playful clapping, we are well wishes, we are postcards, we are trembling hands. 
We are amazing something or others, we are misplaced miracles, we are mad hammers, some are mad hatters. 
We are weather, we are victims of weather. 
We are poignant without exclamation, we are robbers of light. 
We are glasses of water, we are glasses that see, we are tiny dinosaurs, we are makers of things. 
We are humans who do too little, and animals who do too much. 
We are polka dot patterns who deny being whole. 
We are words when we're not busy with appearances. 
We are what we feel when we bare our feet. 
We are stubborn horns, we are breathing accordions. 
We are caves, we are big spaces that sleep. 
We are singing wannabes, we are fumbling Bambi knees, we are bees held by harnesses, we are drums without beat.
We are long lists that move, we hold our breath til' it no longer feels right.
We are performers who paint walls and wish we could fly.
We are the trumpets in our throats, the idea that hearts do more than beat.
We are boots that stomp out fire, we are the changers of time.
We are the winds that hate decision, we are the strides that truth our feet.
We are the danglers from high wire, we are the creaks that frighten children.
We are the fatigue that comes from wearing clothes for too long, we are the avalanche that we didn't see coming.
We are the ink that we forgot to tattoo, we are the messers of hair, we are who we are when no one else is around.
We are tired of hardship and we misunderstand ease.
We wonder if elephants dream, we like glittery things.
We believe clouds talk except when we're wishing they could.
We are a list a mile long, we are scrolls that can't be found.
We are alcohol that does too little, we are courage from sips of tea.
We are nautical romanticism, we are buriers of things.
We are tired of walking, but only when we're done sprinting across rooms.
We get scolded for barking, we are swallowers of moons.
We are turtles that hop, we are rolling eyes.
We are hot when they say it's warm, we are slivers of storm.
We are caravans, we are tantrums, we are sleepers, we are hoots, clicks and hollers.
We uncomfortable collars, we are poorly executed curtsies.
We are lightening that walks like ghosts
We are blushes, we are a little bit okay, we are things we don't wish to be.
We are unpredictable vacations, we are type writer messages.
We are napkin poems, mind altering air.
We are as many things as so many things but we are not just anything, not just anything.