A new day, claims the clock and calendar,
but until I sleep it's the same old day
for me. Holding onto memories, much
of which the cleaning sleep will sweep
away from the mind. Holding onto
this feeling of modest content. And
kept back by the lingering thought that
something more might happen still,
nothing great, bad or ill, just some
small thing to experience or learn.
17.06.2024
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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