Their herds of cars like wayward sheep
Are tinny-bleating over sheaves of dust,
And it is quite the chatter of their lights,
A merry dance: impatient and forthright.

The orange and the yellow buzz belies,
The fury in the oven's glow untamed,
Which falls abated on the stalwart glass,
So circles it draws out in noxious wait,
A lion in a petty cage.

In scathing light of problem puzzles,
To taste defeat but cry: just yet!
This very day I fall but I will stand,
Another morn' the puzzle banished from my eyes,
In clarity cast upon the mast of darling reason,
Bearing fast upon the storm until I'm through,
Just yet! I will see the problem through.

Fall asleep on carpet bristles,
Encircled by a talking family,
Heavy brain inside your skull,
Rests warm beneath a dream-woven duvet,
And cozy warmth spreads through and through,
On carpet bristles halfway soft.