Writing To Kill Time

I’m writing now to kill some time
and in my way it’s sure to rhyme.
I spend my life in “sit and look”
at some poor soul some God forsook.
The eyes that now stare back at me
seek understanding – Liberty!
“Where’s my life gone?, What went wrong?”
an oft heard and familiar song.
Eyes that question and hearts that fear;
the answers they seek, always unclear.
Here today, but gone tomorrow;
uncertain lives lived deep in sorrow.
I have no answers – only care;
my offer to that wild-eyed stare.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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