Joke

It's really quite farcical she moans
We are lying on the floor of our tin hut
Waiting for the delivery of nothing
There is a list of things to do
The hot weather holds us back
The list can wait for another day
And another after that
We keep still
Little stones under a babbling brook
Try not to think
What once was
What is
She sits up
Wipes the hair from her face
Do you never get bored of making the same mistakes
Always
Then you must stop
It's easy
It's all just a habit
And all habits can be broken
She giggles and claps her hands
In her head is the answer
She has kept it safe for so many years
I wash the grime from under my nails
It really is quite funny
Still I wait
The last laugh will be worth the pain of now.