Love, what a Widow's day.
First bloom Celosia,
singing in the rain.
Rushing streams faint noises,
in a land some length away.
Dream clouds bathing,
in the clearest sky of blue.
  Children loafing on the chairs,
    complaining, "we have nothing to do."
There are dishes and laundry the plenty,
  but "no way" they always say.
    "Instead of working, or hiding in the house,
       we should go out and play."