posted on Feb, 5 2016 @ 04:43 AM
The pages of my book I group together,
Each chapter held by a single paperclip.
Colored ones for those I wish to remember,
Plain ones for those that I wish to forget.
Tried many times to remove the plain ones,
For within my book, they have no place.
The chapters that I had written poorly,
Those that were full of errors and mistakes.
But once the chapters have been written,
You can't change a page or single word.
Though in time, you may be forgiven,
There is no rewrite for what's occurred.
There's a softness in the morning dawn,
A stillness, a whisper of the day to come.
Remnants of the previous day is gone,
A fresh start, a new day has now begun.
There's chaos when the sun's high in the sky,
An urgency, a desperate plea for more time,
Not wanting to let the day slip away, pass on by,
A confusion, something hard to describe and define.
There's a fulfillment in the setting sun,
A calmness, a sigh that one does breathe.
Knowing the day is complete, all but done,
A quiet moment that most of us sorely need.