I forgot that yesterday was Saturday. Saturdays ’round these parts are free days, meaning that there is no set topic. So as penance, I present to you the wild card topic one day late.
Today’s classic poem.
I forgot that yesterday was Saturday. Saturdays ’round these parts are free days, meaning that there is no set topic. So as penance, I present to you the wild card topic one day late.
Today’s classic poem.
The paper,
indeed white as a sheet,
is slid under the blade.
A respectful pause
. . .
and the guillotine roars.
The executioner, satiated,
disposes of the corpse
that was guilty
of being the wrong size.
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“You pile up enough tomorrows, and you’ll find you are left with nothing but a lot of empty yesterdays.” – The Music Man
I said I’d do it
I said I’d try
sometimes the day
passes me by
no day like tomorrow
tomorrow is new
I’ll paste myself
to my tasks with glue
tomorrow came
It came and went
how long will I wait
for a day well spent
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