Gone From Your Grasp

The days come

and the days go.

Something is lost

in the translation.

If I only live for myself,

who do I live for?

Yes, I count.  But only


It’s good to get past first

base in life.

Not that I want

incessant activity

swirling my being

like a Texas twister.

Even with a calm


I can’t see past the


The days come &

the days go.

Catch a little

sun ray or

star dust

before it’s gone

from your grasp.

Categories: creative writing, Poetry, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

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