Living is a mystery, I know.
I learned it as a child, long time ago.
I watch the sky after rain, look for rainbow.
Shivering of cold, I gaze at snow.
The steamy windows cause the woe.
I fall and rise, want to know.
I was a tiny girl, wearing on my hair a bow.
Late for everything, ready to go.
The happy bird up there knows to flow.
It is not a mockingbird, but a crow.
Ambiance is calm, things are slow.
Today I haven’t seen sun to glow.
Affliction is high, temperature low.
The causes are from down below.
The storms come, go, people they throw.
Living is shaped of a narrow row.
Mystery is the end, I am pro.
We all are actors of this show.
Creatures of the earth feel the blow.
Life is both woe and bliss, I said so…