Eons have passed
The mirror roared
Wrinkles appear
Eyes still gaze there
A picture lives everyday
It giggles, tickles and
Yet stands steady
On a frozen heart
The page flutters
As the wind blows
Tresses beckon
The waves of days gone
I cross my fingers
At the mail delivery vehicle
I fool myself
To believe in eyelash wishes
The straight road
Sometimes has no end
You turn around
And still there is no one
The 4-Hour Workweek – Book 32 Review
5 years ago
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