It's a line, a metaphorical tool
Bores us to death, a long day's wait
In ways no mortal man can separate.
Fate, they say, is written in the stars,
A cuckoo's call, the chirp of a lark
A stark difference, all in black and white,
Inconquerable, try as you might.
But simply take, a child's delight
Keeps us up countless nights
Is there even a way to fight the fright?
Quizzically, queer, hop skip squirrel
Questing, querulous, Quirnius Quirrell
Try taking up a new language, then,
Foreign, unknown, rather strange to the taste
Asks a question, Q?, why really?
Frees writers' block, an emery.
Feet stuck deep, heavenly quagmire,
Warms us up, sparkling heat of a frozen fire,
Safe and sound, quandaries swimming in our minds.