#73 – The days

Oh the days pass,
They pass like a slow train,
Counting all the cars as they rattle on by,
Creaking to the tune of metal,
Clanking in the most specific way,
They drag like a speech gone on to long,
Or a song that seemingly knows no end,

Can I defend,
Or give my apology,

They sit till like shadows,
Affectionless shadows,
Haunting me into isolated thought,

Self taught to not expect,
A message,
A call,
Nothing at all,
But hope is there none the less,

The days are silent creatures,
Ticking by at snails pace,

With grace and with beauty,
In this space,
I’ve come to recognise,
This life has become ugly,
And out of place,

The days stroll by regardless.


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