Robbed of purpose, I’m bereft.
I’m a hammer without nails.
The castle that I built is far away
Behind iron fences and locked gates.
I’m exiled here with tools still shiny
But no blueprint was sent along
And lumber is in short supply.
I’m a craftsman - I must build,
Or rust along with all my tools.
I feel I’m left out in the cold
And the forecast is for rain.
ljm