Title: What a foolish thing love is

In the morning,

I pace.

In the morning when the sun creeps up behind clouds;

In the morning when mothers and fathers fight

About coats and traffic, weather and money;

In the morning,

I pace.

In the morning when children wake with sleepy, innocent eyes

To greet the day in a smiling way;

In the morning where alcoholics and friends awake

With a headache and a foul taste;

In the morning,

I pace.

In the morning when cars make their daily migration

Across the triumphs and failures of civilization;

In the morning when the homeless awake cold and still but only halfway dead;

In the morning when sweatshop workers depart and return;

In the morning,

I pace.

In the morning when bullets fly and machetes rise;

In the morning when the hopeless toss and turn with sorrow;

In the morning when raindrops fall and flood;

In the morning when the moon slowly fades;

In the morning when music plays for weary ears;

In the morning,

I pace

And think of you.

What a foolish thing love is.