No Fun Being Who You Are
On my deck I sit everyday in the same chair
Enjoying a cup of coffee, reading newspaper
Watching the same lone golfer playing solo,
Passing time alone with my changing shadow.
Song I hear each morning soon leaves me
As sky once grey, turns deep-blue slowly
And winds blow softly, changing frequently
Drifting rainy past, smelling misty warmth.
My day seems to get longer by the hour
Long enough for a blooming flower to curl
As rays of gold weaken and disappear
Gifting landscapes of twilight on my sphere.
I don't ask why horizon looks aloof today
Weary of greeting sky on this lonely day,
For I've been hosting moods quite similar,
Of leaving my chair to be anywhere but here.
When I reflect on the day's long tenure
I admire a bird flapping wings of freedom.
Rejecting boredom, I roam with butterflies,
No fun being who you are, all the time.
February 26, 2018
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