Poetry

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ITS EASY TOO THINK YOU'VE LOST WHAT YOU HAD WHILE LYING ALONE ON
A HOSPITAL BED,ITS SO SIMPLE TO CALL ONE DAY IN SEVEN' MY OWN
CASE A MERE NUMBER ONE IN A ELEVEN,A SHORT STAY IN A WAY;MY
CLOCK IS UNWOUND ITS TWO HANDS POINT DOWN TOO THE GROUND,IT HAS
FASTED FROM TIME,A CHANGE TO ITS STYLE SOME ORNAMENTS TOO HAVE A
SIMILAR VIEW;STILL AM NOT ONE TOO BREW THINGS SWALLOW UP TIME AS
DAYS FALL IN LINE,DAY'S MAY TWIST IN THE MIST THOUGHT HAD LOST MY
OWN NATURAL BLISS,NO GREAT LOSS AS EACH DAY IS THE BOSS;MAY GOD
BLESS AND SPARE US WHILE IN THE LAND OF THE LIVING.MAY WE ALWAYS
BE STRIVING AND GIVING,GOD WILLING.
Joe.

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