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Posted by MFish

Beneath, the bluest of skies,
I pause to listen
And wonder why,
The World, was made to be,
Only as reflective,
As I might be.
In these days of
Passing time,
I would be inclined,
To drink from cups,
In slurping gulps,
A lot of wine.
I ask the question
Or may imply,
That life goes on,
Though you may die
And no one will wonder,
When time does pass,
That you end up flat,
Behind that, which must be,
From here until senility.

The randomness of words,
lay on my plate.
Too many words may come
and they will suffocate.
The thoughts that are now
running through my head,
wishing they were happy,
but No; fearful instead
The words have become hateful;
not what they should be,
for I care for my own
and for strangers too,
as life has given pause
of what one can do.
A scary situation. It's been hard,
for if you are not diligent
and let your down your guard
you could be the victim
of Co-vid nineteen.

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