Occasionally days but drip along,
so grey, so dull, devoid of purpose–
If only something walked across one’s path!
(And be it but the postman carrying money orders -)
Outside the weather is neither drab nor bright,
no sun that shines or rain to fall,
And folk who pass - to me seem all the same today.
On such a day I recognize too well
that some commit to booze, if not to worse.
Another hangs himself to boot.
Luckily each day draws to a close.
Tomorrow you might be better off.
To find life excellent indeed –
For all you may say,
at times, there will be days like this.
From: Gix and Gax, 1935