And, even when the sun half-shines,
It finds you on the roof
In search of any nascent signs
It isn’t waterproof.
It’s pointless waiting till it rains
To find out there’s a hole
And then to wish you’d taken pains
To thwart the rigmarole.
It’s like that with your mind, as well;
You shouldn’t merely wait
Till life becomes some awful hell
And fills you with self-hate.
It’s more astute to treat your head
As if it were a roof, instead.
Photo by Eric Aiden on Unsplash
Roofing
