Most are just going through the motions?
In a non-productive, productive way?
Back and forth, here and there,
To and fro they sway.
Making not much of anything,
Just doing as they please,
What comes easiest is tackled first off,
And the hardest seem no time to squeeze.
Life is such for many,
Sad but so very true it seems,
Not doing much of much these days,
Not doing much of anything.
Breathing in then breathing out,
Over and over again,
This is how most spend their lives,
And will spend it until the end.
By: Linda Winchell
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
my thoughts exactly, though much more well written, very good poem.