The day is at an end,
a good day to live in; that's
the problem with good days,
they end and old master Time
picks another one
from its bag,
an unknown quantity
that new day, one
that might not continue
from where the previous
one ended, that might turn
precarious content into tears.
09.06.2024
#LyricalPoem #Poem Poem #Poems Poems #Poetry Poetry #Verse Verse
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