The Ps of Life
Life is a biograph in the making,
As one page ends,
Another is beginning.
Though people are transient,
In one’s real-life prose,
One can only wonder,
Which way the wind blows.
Love’s lost and love again,
Will ensue till this epic’s end,
Each page is seemingly,
More significant than the past
And some pages one hopes would forever last,
Some are ghastly, horrible at best,
Would it be more palatable?
Just to skip to the P.S.
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