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Some Days
Some days are heavy some days are light.
Some days are like never-ending night.
When confusion and toil set out to spoil
I plant my troubles in the soil.
If any good will sprout a flower will spring out.
If any bad remains within the soil it retains.
Like a garden of good and evil, the light will help it grow,
Darkness will turn all else under, and dance to the sound of thunder.
So if we meet on our way, I hope to rid dismay.
We can dance, we can sing, to life we both bring.
Days can be a gift or a burden, but life is a mysterious thing.
So hold on to the best, and lay your sorrows to rest.
We always find a new and complicated test.
Some days are tattered and torn and leaves a painful thorn.
Other days are light and warm and free, it all becomes a part of me.
I heard my friend say to be strong with an assortment of each day.
(I'm never alone, like the present generation attached to a cell phone)

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Some Days