Wishing the Impossible
Do not be surprised.
I do not live, I exist.
I just bear a weary future.
I fear not death
Now that you’re gone.
The horizon is far away and dark.
I wake at two in the morning.
The waning moon is ebony, just a sliver.
Dark clouds obscure the little light.
Yet I find no comfort in silence.
Dawn soon comes.
The trees are there
Birds nestle in them.
Below a soft breeze scatters seed,
For life must go on.
I plod on until…..
The sky clears.
The sea is calm.
And some Venus
In a skimpy bikini
Lies on the sand,
Sunbathing.
Who cares about death?
Perhaps it has taken a holiday.
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2021
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