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Rated: E · Poetry · Spiritual · #1960634
A poem about busy life
Nothing can be said
until the close of the day
then we’ll know which bolts flew true
and which ones went astray.
Some arrows to be gathered up;
some lost in the dark;
some that traveled wide and wild,
and some that hit their mark.
Then the reckoning can begin,
the battles lost and won,
we check the balance of our accounts
after the day is done.
And when we are released in sleep,
how happy we can be!
For slumber is a gift,
that Morpheus gives us free.
© Copyright 2013 A.J. Price (jozmyth at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1960634-The-End-of-the-Day