Some days you listen to people “playing”
   with their “toys”
Until you want to run from all the noise.
Finally when you find a place to rest
Friends come to visit so you do your best.
Every day it gets worse
Really! you think, it must be a curse.
I don’t know why we sit and listen
Never venturing out into the sun that glistens.
Getting deeper in sorrow
Someday we’ll snap out of it, maybe tomorrow.