Bowed down with worries, some people go home
As the sun sinks to rest.
Cares fill some minds and hearts,
As they look at the sun in the west.
But when the sun rises,
The slate is clean
A fresh shining disc, in golden hues,
In the mental spaces between
Yesterday’s woes, or troubles
And what may be, today.
Hope..the shining sun through the clouds:
That’s what we live with, each day.