I meant to write a verse today,
but flowers nodded in the wind,
and dragonflies flit o'er the steps
in stuttered rhythms ~ dip and bend.
I meant to weed a garden bed
and plant some seedlings in a row,
but raven wings flapped in a tree,
instead, I reached for dear, old Poe.
I meant to tidy up my house,
but feathered perfume tickled me,
a soft caress of scented air
drew me beneath an apple tree.
I meant to mend the garden gate,
but sunbeams flirted with the shade,
and dappled shadows winked at me
from deep within a shaded glade.
I glanced out of an open door
where golden motes danced on a sigh,
and paused to savor now before...
all my tomorrows slip on by.
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