On days that I’m working
It’s always so beautiful outside
And I bewail that I can’t enjoy
Sun splashed mornings
Chased by balmy afternoons
With an idle zephyr that bitten into,
Tastes of euphoria
But then again,
Maybe everyday is this beautiful
And I slouch till two in the afternoon
Not having the slightest inclination
To go beyond my dank room on the days
That I’m not ensnared behind a desk
Observing lives whittled down
To the pursuit of dead presidents
the sieve and the sand 
Yeah, and when you do go out and enjoy those days your always thinking or talking about something that takes away it’s magnificence. When was the last time you felt free?
I enjoy reading this,and truth be told, beautiful days freak me out a bit, they come with the “I’ve got to enjoy this, I have to…” sort of feeling. I end up getting lost into this frenzy. Maybe I am just neurotic…but in any case, I enjoy reading your depiction of nice days