A turn of the key
And all is safely locked behind
My front door. Yet I find
That my troubles follow me.

I can not agree
With those who say
“Go away on holiday”,
For your troubles will with you stay.

True, there are drink and sunny beaches
Where girls, juicy as ripe peaches
Will soothe away your worries.
But time (often unnoticed) hurries
On and the holidays are too soon gone.
And you return
To the fact that can not be spurned.

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