This day too will be gone,
this buzzing of a few trapped
flies against the glass until
I open the window, the phone
call I had with an elderly
relative who called just to talk,
the cloudlands moored on the
pale bright blue sky, the slight
movement of the tree branches
in a wind you don't really feel,
the taste of this coffee will be
gone, this raw longing in my
loins, and these words I write
across a screen, and the fingers
moving across the keyboard,
and the mind which, ignoring all
its knowledge, can't quite accept
that it might be the most
ephemeral thing of these all.
23.06.2024
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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