what's in a day, it seems us together, brings newness to the play, keeps us in delight. Who's making the calls, putting up walls, making the populace stall. Where is the fun, just begun, to become spun, golden threads aren't done. When do we begin, to ask forgivness for a sin, after then, we can start to count again. Why do we do this thing called life, a wife, strides, feeling the ocean tide, perhaps a glide, or to get high, possibly to buy.
