the longer we live,
the more tired we get,
are we just tired of living?
A casual remark
from a random comment
sparking off today.
I sit here in a shed
among other whom together
have come quite a long way.
The wind whispers to my ear
suggesting the weather
is getting gloomy today.
Its all so familiar
like how we had our weekends
hiding inside comfort shelter.
We wait for lunch's due
and a break
like we always do.
It becomes apparent
what was on my head
became a table for my writing tool.
I saw leaves falling
yellow and brown
simplicity it carried ground bound.
Time for work again
and reluctantly I return
this paper to my pocket.
While I carry on
to long for the
much later break.
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