The place to be, the place to come if ever you’re feeling God awful down on your luck
Truckloads of despair owing to an all too diluted air outside
You cannot hide from the fantastic furore going on about the place from the very moment you walk through those mammoth sliding doors
A smile, a hug, all too often an embrace, people every which way strolling, sprinting about with a reassuringly undiluted look of relief upon their face
Chase away all of your worries, if you miss a dear friend then why not go by your gut, book yourself on the next flight
But hurry
Where I might like to be when life becomes all too much for me, sit it out, wait and see what happens
A poem will most probably come my way, a wordsmith always and forever, looking for that rather enticing blast of literary delight that might just fall from what people do perceive to be an addled mind sometimes
When it’s my pen and notepad in hand I get the feeling that all will most certainly turn out grand, and then there will always be those of you who cry, never too shy to let those tears roll on by, but that’s quite alright, I know that this is because you are going to miss a loved-one, sad to witness your days together run in an entirely different direction, drift away
Try it sometime, see what happens, I mean you don’t have to write but you might, I do this because it impressed me recently when a woman admitted this to be what she liked to do, and on hearing that I am sure, if you think about it a little more, that the exact same most probably goes for you