Not A Poem Too Soon

Shall I write tomorrow’s poem
Today? Steal a moment
From today’s beleaguered few
To consider the possibilities
Weigh outcomes anew?
Or should I see today’s words through?

I could wait for tomorrow’s beauty
To reveal itself slowly, as it is meant
To do. Savour the last lights of the day
Wonder where the hours went.
The moon ponders its waning glow
Seeking a handful of syllables to throw
Into the verses that this day has sent.


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