Smile Poem by Morgan Michaels

Smile. There is nothing else to do.
Skies whatever other color
A simple smile turns them blue.

Smile. It's probably even so
They've the art to change the weather
Ominous to clement, and your mood, true,

From bitter Heraclites' into
Laughing Juvenal's, and further-
Lento into allegretto,

Faster and bluer- blue to heavenly blue-
One even makes you look a little better
And you will find it long overdue.

Coffee turned in the pot? Boo-hoo:
Off, off your duff and brew some more,
Just. that's the gist of it- or tin through,

Quit coffee. Admit it bad for you.
Feed it to the hibernating flower
That in last years chaiser grew.

And that false friend, now,
Truculent and sour,
Likely to do nothing more than borrow;

And that lost love, now, that no
Sorrow can re-call; And that father
Now, writhing on that sad height- O

Weep, then smile. There is nothing more to do
But smile, then smile even harder.
You will soon discover-even you,
A villanelle is not so hard to do.