Sunday 7 January 2018

It hangs.

It hangs.  It lingers.
It taints my fear.
It sits in the stands,
And begins to jeer.
A moments peace,
Is truly just that.
As one cloud dissipates,
It grabs a different hat.
Walking in, with a jaunty swagger.
Stabbing my heart,
With a well worn dagger.
I take a deep breath,
Push on through the grey,
And hope tomorrow,
Will be my day.

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