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Swaying

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The days turn to nights and the worries sway from our princes and princesses during the now restless stay. 

And while thoughts come and go, and linger still more, the wishes we wish, are priceless in store.

The could have’s and would be’s raid constantly, and garner simple nods when spoken freely. Why? Why? Why? It’s asked yet again. A test? A cruel joke? Alas, it’s probably just me.

Guilty of it, as some who suffer this craze, that we keep swaying between suffering and new normalcy. And so it becomes hard not to ask, does it feel like it’s all the becoming the same?

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