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Some trot
Some walk
Some stalk
Some just talk
Others hide in the grot.
Steaming pot.
Scenting aroma?
If only it was a panorama
showing scenes of this drama.
But some wait, some patience’s rot.
Life makes us broths.
Tasteful and tasteless.
Call it pitiless
but it’s needless.
For that’s all it brought.
Even if caught
when men syndicated,
it will be vindicated
as reasons are indicated
upon stepping into the court.
Can a sane man
ever bother
to stand on his shoulder
to look further?
Life is a trip, we’re in this van.
