Punchline
I know you know I saw you,
think you wanted to be seen,
yet, I don't recognize you,
don't know what your presence means.
The stone that rolls on endlessly,
they say won't gather moss,
but how does that account for
my helpless sense of loss?
His sense of humor's wicked,
He whose name we all invoke.
I must have missed the punchline,
'cause I never got the joke.
©Danielle White
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