ON THE FIFTY-EIGHT DAY OF THE YEAR

I'm making coffee,

to get something still done;

an early rise in the morning

to run after a bus, and

all those delayed things

to still carve into this evening.

Or perhaps I shall just give

way; sleep, wake at late

night, and hurried rush

in the pale morning.

27.02.2023

#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse