In Which... I'm Not Sure In Which

The sky is grey and dark, the wind blows strong,

And I'm reminded once again that we

Have little time, although one's life seems long

When stuck within a cubicle. I see

An endless round of chores just to maintain

My place within this world and keep it whole,

Whene'er I look ahead. "Oh, what a pain,"

I say, when I'm not thinking. What's my role

Outside of this, though? What am I to do?

Keep writing lines like these? Is that enough?

It must be, for it brought me all of you,

And I don't take for granted all the stuff

You bring to me. Don't ever think so, please.

We're all here for each other's help and ease.