The Storm

These days are crazy now,
So tiresome, so insane,
And it makes me blue.
Why can't the ocean's tides
Settle down to a whisper?
Until then, all's tempestuous.

It seems all that ever goes on
Is a perrenial storm flashing before us.
I bet it will never cease nor desist.
Some folks complain,
But I simply explain:
You must adapt, that simply is the key.

What do I in my spare time during the storm
But spend it reminiscing of yesteryear,
When things weren't so bad,
And when things didn't make me sad,
And when I didn't shed a tear,
When all was serene?

I dream of times when the storm is gone.
The time for that coming may be long.
I sit quietly, then hum a tune, a sweet song,
And oh, I think I may be then alright.
We can take the storm's lemons, make lemonade,
And all the pain will then simply fade.