Not Very Grand.

What shall I write about today?
Nothing comes into my mind,
It seems that I do not have much to say,
Saying nothing is sometimes very kind.

The world goes around in the same old way,
I sit here pondering in my armchair.
Yes sometimes it is better with nothing to say,
To be for once without a care.

The seasons come the seasons go,
I am doomed to sit out my fate,
Everything goes so very slow,
My thoughts are out of date.

So today I will write about nought,
My pen is heavy in my hand.
You know it is worth a thought,
For writing nothing is not very grand.

by Bernard Shaw

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