It shows up often in a great coat,
storms through the house crushing
dreams and all gains painfully erected,
and it must take down everything that’s good.

The children, astounded stare into the air.
Someone whispers only once to stop it,
because the love is so blissful and to see it die
is the last thing, why allow disgust to murder joy.

What did you do to deserve it; to awake 
dirt and dust with its bitterness and hurt;
darkening the sun in its early morning rise?
Who marries pangs of regrets anyway?

Nonetheless, there never was a life without it,
so twist the nose to shake off the smell
and bury decayed memories of past events
when the panorama of the present stretches.