No Plans
In the closing hours of Day,
While fools make plans,
And others Pray.
Thoughts of you tresspass upon,
The residue of day since dawn.
Flames of loss anew are lit,
Rekindling fires of loneliness.
Consumes the framework built anew,
To force this fool to face the truth,
There are No Plans, since I lost you
Copyright © Terry Shuff | Year Posted 2017
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