Remote Control

It's a pity that this should be,
Time to write more poetry,
For my pen slips, commits hideous crime,
Instead of its usual produce of fair rhyme.
How I wish that I could emote,
At the click of some tiny freakish remote.
Then I'd say sunny and it would so be,
The sun casting shadows through languorous tree.
My fledgling verse could then take flight,
And bask in the warmth of the bright sunlight.
I'd never say "rainy" for it does so happen,
The cloudy weather does far dampen,
And ruin my rhyme of the day....
And that's all I have to say.