One day you walk to a window
And expect to see a saddened widow
But then you see faces shining
And wonder why people aren’t whining.
Another day you hold a pen expecting to write
But then the cold can’t help but bite
In a moment you’re in slumber
Nothing almost never gets done, you ponder.
A moment you expect an idea to pick-up
But patience you need, coz there might be a mishap
By you it slides in a blink
And yes you mayn’t get to do it; the wink.