The Sun
A poem by Daigneault
Starting out, which way to go
direction so unclear
But walk we do and try we do
decades from the years
A house, a home, a job, a way
a life you want to build
And then one day, inch by inch
the efforts start to yield
And it feels good, so very good
you’re going to pay the bills
A world steps in, words that smirk
your mountains turn to hills
A better job, a bigger car
clothes, vacations too
Then new friends, the money grows
is this a better you
A new thing found, an old thing lost,
discarded on the way
You say hello, you say goodbye
soon black and white turn gray
For what to build, to strive and grow
be not a hired gun
For looking grand with empty heart
a fool chasing the sun
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