Counting the days till days don’t count,
there’ll be no worries or any doubt.
There’s never to be a frown or a pout.
I could stay in or I can go out.
Counting the days for my time to sprout,
I’ll get up late with nothing to think about.
I can be really quite or scream and shout.
I’ll always be mellow and never freak out.
Counting the days to assume some clout,
each moment’s new with adventures to scout.
Destinations will be celebrations to tout.
The sun will shine with or without
Counting the days thought getting stout.
All will be friends, but for the lout.
I’ll need no maps and never to rout.
I’m never locked in or lucked out.
Counting days before the days run out,
when never a tear or ever a drought.
Choices all mine, all else to flout.
And blessings counted before checking out.