Of ethereal and practical
There are two lives I seem to lead,
Ethereal and practical.
But only one I seem to heed
And that one is intangible.
My head is in the stars all day,
It never seems to clear for me.
It always seems to want to stray.
With daffodils or out to sea.
I'm never sure just what to do,
The practical cries out to me.
It's always in a misconstrue.
I live in ethereal ennui.
But my good wife is very straight,
She handles things material.
She does the deeds that I most hate
Will only heir ethereal.
I would love she join my predispose,
But she only smells, the real of rose.