Ceenoa

I’m a battered old “wind-up” that has lost its key
a “down-to-the-last-dregs”, no power left battery
the season has turned and the sun disappeared
and its happening again, just as I feared

the grey skies have brought out the gloom within me
the cold makes me ache, and my eyes do not see
all the beauty in trees as they drop their leaves
nor sunlight on clouds pushed fast by the breeze

I’m looking inside where the SAD now resides
the morass and the muck where enthusiasm dies
I struggle to move, to wade to the shore
but gravity sucks, I sink downward much more

Each morning I wake up, and silently plea
“don’t let the SAD in, don’t let it touch me”
I put on my armour as I brush my hair
I swear to pretend, that it isn’t there

I wish for some chocolate, some wine and a friend
to come to my rescue and make the SAD end
if only this moment, if only today
your friendship, your laughter, can drive it away

so sit by shoulder and raise your glass high
I’ll tell you a story, we’ll laugh and not cry
for right at this moment with you by my side
SAD agrees to my offer, we’ve called a ceasefire

© ceenoa 23.5.2014