Stoic

Life isn’t a mountain

In cold, stoic meditation

It is a valley of colors

And bright summers

As the mind greys

Little seems to amaze

In a rotary rut

Sorrows collect to a glut

Climbing down the hill

Takes the force of will

It can’t be done suddenly

Parting with mind’s company

Colors return, when in fun

Life’s celebrated, not won

Those who live aren’t stoic

Their smile is heroic