What If

Getting on in years and decades past my prime
And I only live now for to pen one more rhyme
An addictive rhymer I pen every day
Tis just a bad habit I cannot give away
By Nature I always have felt so inspired
And of singing her praises I could never grow tired,
Her birds and her animals, her insects and bees
Her flowers and her plants and her blossoming trees
Tis of Nature's wonders I most like to write
The sunshine of day and the moonshine of night
And what if for my verses I never get paid
And what if as a writer I do not make the grade
And what if my efforts are not good enough
The lust it is in me for penning more stuff.