The Humdrum Banality

In the daily grind

I now find

That I am wholly and completely uncontent.

Dishes, laundry, chores,

Picking up clothes and cleaning the floors.

Putting on the uniform, morning commute

Always the same, adventure’s voice on mute.

Routine, work, mundane

The artist, slain.

Adult responsibility and dismay

Reoccurring demands, no time for play. 

How does one find happiness?

In this place? In this mess?

-The Poet of Windy Blue