Sunday, July 7, 2024

the day at hand

there are nights
when
you can't sleep, you lie there
and stare
into the shadows,
at the dim red eyes
of the clock.
at the slow twist
of the fan.
you adjust the pillow,
you roll from side
to side.
nothing's wrong.
or is there, you wonder.
pondering
the past and
the day
at hand.

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