Sometimes In The Changeover

 

 

Sometimes in the changeover

On our way to perfect lives,

Drawn by the images our

Screens, our magazines,

Advertisers paint for us,

We forget that living is

A collection of tiny

Imperfections all

Working and rubbing

With and against each other,

Like the rocks, the sand,

The waves, the wind,

The living things at

The edge of the ocean,

All different, all unique,

All beautiful in their own right,

Dancing in the crucible of time

To the violins, the orchestra of life.

 

Stephen Nesbitt ©

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