A Short Epic Poem About Good Things

Short poems are not like taking a road trip to the Utah canyon country to have a spiritual awakening.
Short poems are like a dog wagging its tail...but not for long...like a dog does immediately before you feed it.
Short poems are not fun to sit and try to get into while reading in bed or on the beach;
Short poems are good for the long term of forever because they get stuck in that place in the brain just past annoying, the place where inspiration dwells
or comfort
or solace
or peace.
Our lives are epic poems with short passages worth remembering.
Her name was Alicia, her name was Susan,
Her name was Mazy and she was a good dog.
Her name was Elinor and she was a steep mountain
She was a river and her name was the Duck.
And if you only take one thought from this poem of the passage of my life and what I think is important then let it be:
I reach out my hand to pluck the golden orb of the ripe peach.But my fingers are only long enough to scrape the refreshing dew on its lustrous skin. So I smell the sweetly nectarized air and hold the fruit only in my mind, where it is surly sweeter than any peach ever tasted.