The wheels of time turn
each epoch into a new story
and looking out
the sun always finds
some new odds and ends of existence
these blue elastic days
stretch an empty story over the margins
vying for a drunken dream
and a burnt sky looks back
with a worried look
when small talk runs dry
the rain is silent when it comes
its presence felt only in
the softness left behind
and the green sings
a new song of remembered words
how can I possibly not sing along?
each epoch into a new story
and looking out
the sun always finds
some new odds and ends of existence
these blue elastic days
stretch an empty story over the margins
vying for a drunken dream
and a burnt sky looks back
with a worried look
when small talk runs dry
the rain is silent when it comes
its presence felt only in
the softness left behind
and the green sings
a new song of remembered words
how can I possibly not sing along?
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A reflection shared is an insight gained. :)