London Poem: Day 358

10 August

It’s a slow wane to end a year,
Nervous and full of hesitance
For what’s to come in the
Curling months of an unknown year.
What’s but another name to
Add to the many?
Too many logs on the fire,
They say, and there is much
Agreement, but the year is a
Wild one, surprising you
With every step.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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