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| >> Static Item >> Editorial >> Opinion >> ID #1064791 |
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The time has come but it does not last,
and even tomorrow is soon our past. We twist we turn in the unseen breeze. It does not fulfill, nor does it please. The countless days, soon finite, and we slip confused into the nite.
© Copyright 2006 K. I. Smet (UN: k-i-smet at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
K. I. Smet has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |