A dead few days were these just past.
I sat about and barely asked –
But what I should have thought to myself,
Was along the lines of health or wealth?

Instead a sat or lay in peace.
Meek and quiet under soaring geese.
The jam factory chugged and the farm lived on.
I scrolled, bit my lip and hid from the sun.

Time for tea, neaten, think back.
This life of mine follows any old track.