Boredom is quite a curious thing.
It frustratingly tills away at the head,
Yet from it new ideas start to spring
Like flowers in a fertile bed
The seeds of imagination have been sown
And from there stems creativity
As one begins to look at a stone
Thinking of ways to decorate the home
Or practice their hand at poetry
Writing about places they roam
Boredom is not always fun
It makes me feel rather blind
Though it gives time for things to be done
And that I do not mind.