Late

in poetry •  7 years ago 

The time trough to morrow
I know bu not how
I confess I can not
For ever still blank a note

The time striking eight forty-eight
Why I have to giving reason, why I am late?
What if sleep overnight to night?
And you said it might

The sun forever rise in the east and below in the west
Begin in the morning terminate in the evening. Might

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