has tipped over the edge
rolling downhill
out of control
bumping and twisting on
uneven ground
every day of rain
a game called
every day of work
sun down the drain.
Only mid-August
it’s already over
my mind shades into
chilly fall the
leaves barely up there
falling, falling in my eyes
too late to take a walk
too late to sit on the beach

too late, already too late


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