It all looks like its past.
Although the evening
still struggles to snug
into the night
by my bed side and
I have still not had a wink
it seems to be all past.
The dawn smears
my face with breeze and
light glides in a playful frenzy
to brace the palpitations
of my breath and soothe the
drudgery of my limited Self.
Even I am past
All years succumb into
the illusive loneliness that
wash my days while I seek
the strength to walk
past the passing.
~A
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