dreary and dismal is the day
arriving after yesterday
when all was as expected,
hours pass by too quickly to
be noticed fully and when
observed offer very little
in emotional comforts...
they whittle away at themselves
like carving a face in wood
for children's play and
nothing more when life used
to be just that simple...
they flow one right after the
other as they should, never
out of place are they seen,
since no one would know
exactly what to do if they were,
arranged unchronological,
they serve us well when working
or relaxing by the shore but
when there is nothing to do,
they are boring and immature,
they feed on our frailties
instead of the qualities that
made them what they were,
now just a bunch of minutes
and hours bundled together
because it is so much cheaper.
September 2, 2025
No comments:
Post a Comment