inspiration poetry

Poem for the days

They don’t matter, most of the days.

Don’t matter because we squander

them the same as water down

the drain thinking there will

always be more. The ones

we remember are for good or bad

reasons but the truth is,

most days are really both.

Most days are a mix, same

as a whole life,

water from the tap

drawn from a source unseen.


By pinklightsabre

Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.

16 replies on “Poem for the days”

Cool! This goes into my Daily Wisdom log I keep during an annual Nov/Dec process of establishing focus in the coming year. Kickoff was last night – you’re hitting Day 1. (It’s a group thing – this year’s banner is “Clear the way for 2020 vision” – clarity bound to include a mix of good and bad!)

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