Under My Desk
Under my desk is the place to be
On days when the world closes in on me.
It’s dark and cool, and the place to shirk
When I feel that I can’t handle the work.
When damian and tom, and gillian too
Are on my case and I feel blue
I kick off my shoes and wiggle my toes,
Make faces at the spider crawling on my nose.
I find fun things down here sometime
Like combs and pens, and words that rhyme
Crumbs, paperclips and stuff like that.
Oh look. I thought I’d lost that old golf hat!
But above all else, it’s here I find
Tranquillity and peace of mind
And pretend that I’m not the CEO,
But just a homeless man named Joe.
With no worries except the next mealtime
And somewhere to sleep where the bells don’t chime
Too early to make me face the day
And muddle through in my own way.
One thing I always reflect upon
Is that man, when it’s all said and done,
Is never happy with what he’s got
And always wants to be what he’s not.
