Chance
Life, itself, seems but merely chance.
As it consumes each day when done.
We seldom pause for second glance.
Life, itself, seems but merely chance.
But, then we pause and look askance,
and wish more wisely it was spun.
Life, itself, seems but merely chance.
As it consumes each day when done.
December 31, 2022
for Chance Poetry Contest
by Julia Ward
Copyright © Ann Peck | Year Posted 2022
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