The Storm

The Storm                        May 31, 2005

These days are crazy now,

So tiresome, so insane,

And it makes me blue.

Why can't the ocean's tides

Settle down to a whisper?

Until then, all's tempestuous.

It seems all that ever goes on

Is a perennial storm flashing before us.

I bet it will never cease nor desist.

Some folks complain,

But I simply explain:

You must adapt, that simply is the key.

What do I in my spare time during the storm

But spend it reminiscing of yesteryear,

When things weren't so bad,

And when things didn't make me sad,

And when I didn't shed a tear,

When all was serene?

I dream of times when the storm is gone.

The time for that coming may be long.

I sit quietly, then hum a tune, a sweet song,

And oh, I think I may be then alright.

We can take the storm's lemons, make lemonade,

And all the pain will then simply fade.