New Day
Have you ever come to the end of the day,
and can run the clock back play by play,
and can add it up that supposedly
it was the day it was suppose to be,
but somehow it seems that no time has gone
like a broken record playing on and on,
and you think back through all the things you’ve done -
every day every deed bleeding into one,
and you can’t help but feel just a little fear
and hopelessness, cuz it isn’t clear
what it’s all about, why you rise each day,
fight the fights you fight, play the games you play,
do the things you do, “Just what the hell for”
for you’ve done it all a thousand times before,
and could keep on going til the bitter end,
and perhaps you will but what purpose then
does it serve, and so your left with not
but to sigh and deal with what you’ve got,
and just keep moving for you know what they say…
Tomorrow will be a bran new day.
Hélène
Mon 19th Feb 2024 16:36
Stellar poem, Jeff. Captures angst so common for many of us....but we keep on going.