Picked Up

I lounge around, frowning and pouting fretting about the past's improbable effects on the future.

I look back into the past as I walk forward, stumbling down on obsticals I could of manuvered.

My friend sees me, then laughs sympathetically. 

He pulls me up by my hand and heals my hurt self esteem with light jokes and glee.

We skip, we laugh and we dance all hand in hand. 

I trip and slip and he's there to pick me up again. 

Joy can only be found in the present. 

And his prensence is a present to me in my present. 

The good ole days inspire a longing heart. 

The times to come beg for an anxious mind.

But my present is all I need by my side for a joyful ride.