When you are locked in,
You start to make friends,
With things that don’t talk back,
Thus, they don’t pretend,
They don’t pretend to be right,
Neither pretend to be wrong,
They’re simply there singing,
Their non-sentient song,
Be it a bottle of something,
Perhaps it is some wine,
Each gulp some philosophy,
That you deem sublime,
Or maybe a vinyl you enjoy,
Some audible memory,
That makes you young again,
So, some grey revelry,
Another choice may be,
A tender piece of art,
That either can be framed,
Or be a tasty fruit tart,
Or perhaps your friend,
Comes alive on the page,
Either it is a work of fiction,
Or something true and sage,
With whatever your choice,
Be kind to your new mate,
And please keep it with you,
Even after this time so grave,
So that it shines a light,
That you can happily reuse,
Whenever times are hard,
Thus, you will never lose.