I heard you scream and yell – can’t deny it.
You mused that I did, too – can’t remember.
Time ticked by – January. . . December. . .
And that’s when we examined. . . Why are we here?
Tell me, do you wonder? Why are we here?
This is why. . . to shield each other from fear.
It’s love, my dear, and I wish that it’s clear.
So, grip tight baby, when it’s up and down.
Don’t give-up, even when we’re upside-down.
I won’t let you go.
Life is a trip, it won’t finish ’til we’re dead.
But you’ll find me when we glare into red.
Here or there, we’ll scream through this together.
I’ve always said. . . we’ll storm any weather.
© Joey Who? and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.