Blinked

by Steve Mitchell

The day, once more, has snuck on by. 
Another whisker comes in white. 
The sun rolls, ceaseless, through the sky. 
It doesn’t matter how I fight –

another whisker comes in white. 
I wipe the mirror and shut my eyes;
it doesn’t matter how I fight. 
Does time enjoy its mean surprise?

I wipe the mirror and shut my eyes. 
The sun rolls, ceaseless, through the sky. 
Does time enjoy its mean surprise?
The day, once more, has snuck on by. 

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2017

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