Seven seems to be the number
Years ‘til routine’s torn asunder.
Rips, tears, they can be seen before,
Coping, but will not take much more.
People, some, they call it an itch,
That which makes our ticker to twitch.
I say it is time passing by
Years that make us look up and cry.
Time, no, itself not the issue
Changes, situations, ensue.
I will not, with this itching, live
I’ll jump paths before ground will give.
I recently recalled a conversation with a friend. It was about the seven year itch. What causes people, after about seven years time, to become dissatisfied with their lives? We concluded that it wasn’t time passing, but situations in our lives changing when we are left, standing, still. We then decided we can keep out of these ruts by jumping to new paths constantly on our journeys through life.
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