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ourselves

 

in a thousand faces 

in a hundred places 

over the ages 

we find ourselves again 

 

names have changed 

feelings remain 

not so much as a do-over 

as a slight mutation  

 

dusting off strategies 

replacing batteries 

what was almost tragedy 

becomes a trite poem   

◄ The Night Calls

on passing through the deathtollbooth ►

Comments

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Robert C Gaulke

Mon 6th Apr 2020 19:08

Thanks, all. B

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SJPugsley

Mon 6th Apr 2020 15:58

Very much enjoyed reading this. Well written

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Mon 6th Apr 2020 15:49

An absolute gem.

Philipos

Mon 6th Apr 2020 15:02

Life recycled time and again leading to renewal. Enjoyed. P ?

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