Quenata

Who hasn't heard of toil, or the future's clink, a stone within your thoughts, houses bought on schemes, moved in the space of a blink, a furious search for ease, a warm place to atone, bedrooms painted pink, a husband bellows 'are you home', by sun, moon, your sea, hardly lets you think, if any time for certainty, Wurlitzer noise and bright clothes, scares you at the ice rink, a lover makes you groan, flickering inside your soul, it keeps away the drink, whoever does not know, allows you alone to sing. ,