Parody of Ants

Couldn't concentrate in a garden, so I wrote this.

Damn this racing mind of mine,

for peace, it will not come-

Despite the soothing shade that's lent from sycamores above.

Obligations prick and fester

though I wish they'd pause-

Perhaps allowing some partake in blue-eyed grasses' calm.

It's at this moment I take notice

movement at my feet-

A string of ants in front of me, climbing, marching, dutifully.

Down the terrace board they tread

like soldiers full of valor-

They take no notice, I can see, of sycamores and flowers.

The ants and I are much alike,

it pains me to admit-

Trapped in societal bastilles, comply - surrender - submit.

There's one thing, though, the ants possess

of which I am quite envious.

Though both imprisoned, as I see,

the key lies in their ability

to carry on, so unacquainted-

with such impeding revelations.

Author's Note

Is this too basic?