It’s a cold world, I learned without a teacher,
the lesson taught absent studying books.
When it’s hot, I found it’s not a feature
of sweet life either, just stinging right hooks.
You may have found your Life’s temperate mean,
the average sweet spot twixt cold and hot.
I thought Life’s race took a binary lean,
chill pillar OR scorching post, like as not.
Maybe you’re lucky and found one to care
from the broad spectrum of persons you’ve met.
Life gives no hoots since I chose not to dare
to ask one of them for a hug, and yet…
What? Slow down and sit with you for some rest?
Yes, it’s warm here with your head on my chest.