Then there was the beginning,
The fidgety wait for the day to arrive,
The apprehension made it exciting,
The nervous energy on which I thrive.
Then there was the beginning,
Or am I looking at it wrong,
Am I walking in circles,
And, is it to be the swan song?
Like the ticking time piece,
The sundial that never stops,
Or the hourglass with sand,
The incessant cuckoo’s squawks.
Can time be boxed in , at all?
Is there ever a finishing line?
With the incessant succession,
Life certainly got on quite fine.
PROMPT COURTESY |
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