Morning comes, alarm so loud, crowding out dreams for what seems to be Life. Can I survive, each day new troubles, new worries like snow flurries when you least expect a tragedy comes and trumps all your good cheer. Were we so high and mighty with our days so planned? Now I stand so weak and waiting- not dating- single always ready to mingle with the cute girls. I mean ladies of course. Wait, noon is soon upon me and yet what is required of me? I hate to be the bearer of the truth but I really hate to be where you think I should be. I have dreams, it seems, like rocket ships to take me out of this place. Not to outer space but to a place where my dreams will grow like a garden full of hope.