Consolation Prize - A Sonnet Poem by Richard St. Clair

Yes, I get bored, exhausted, and complain
About the state of dear old Planet Earth,
My cracker barrel thoughts, for what they're worth,
Of little value on this runaway train.
Too many people, foodstuffs on decline,
Too many wars as if one weren't enough,
Unable, I, to grow a skin that's tough,
So I grieve, a fading flower on a vine.
I make new songs and symphonies, I do,
At least to pass the time, for me worthwhile,
Unable though to walk an extra mile,
With aging flesh and bones, too much ado.
So I retreat into my world of fantasy,
No worse, I guess, than all this planet's travesty.