In the heat of life,
The "red wheel barrow" of my life is my fan,
Nursing me to rest after the long day,
My misery, my distress, masked by the noise,
The pleasant droning heals the pain of the knife
In which away, I constatly ran.
"Move, move, move, away!"
My fan would always say, as to sleep I deploy.
The sounds of laughter peircing my ears like the fife
In the war, while I lay alone wishing for some man,
To step into my life, save me like the sun's ray on a rainy day,
Who can comfort this little boy?
But the tears dry as the droning fan blows,
And I find comfort as the laughter fades behind the doze,
The buzz, the drone, the comfort of something that reigns constant,
The hum, the static, the constat rant.
It keeps me company.
