Almost
Almost
Why is life such a compromise?
Everything is nearly right or not quite there
Nothing is either perfect or nowhere near
Its as if we were born to approximate, almost
The weather holds up it's mirror to life
It's undecided, like the coin toss, random
Not quite sunny, barely dry yet hardly warm
Its partly cloudy – largely bearable, almost
I trudge down the street, greet familiar faces
Conversations trivial, going no places
The weather this, the latest that
Its as though our imagination’s stolen, almost
I was going to do something different
Ride free, a white horse across rivers
Sail fast, on a yacht over fences
Then I woke up, half asleep, almost
But is it so bad to compromise?
To realise life’s boundaries protect
I wasn’t destined to break records
Second place is good enough, almost
I’ll take my podium place
I’ll carry hope’s umbrella
Its partly cloudy and grey
I’m pretty much OK. Almost
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