Dunk Love
I refuse to see our glass
As anything other than
half full.
Although things may be
Receding. Life, in all its wisdoms
is misleading.
Down the garden path.
I can only know what
I’ve loved
and what I’ve had.
It can’t be shipped
Or glad-wrapped
and forgotten.
Only time is tripping up
Upon us, each fatal second
that clocked.
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