Leaves litter through the light
So many insignificant lasts
Dewey yellow flowers peek up in delight
Another addition to our pasts
Whispers of new beginnings
Echo through the night
Unconfirmed, uncertainty rules without a fight
Will a month really bring that much change?
Does the idea of hoping sound somewhat deranged?
Turmoil bubbles through
Inescapable
Is it part of a grand story or a living hell?
There will be
more nights
more adventures to come
mundane days
An end is not being done
And now just be now
with the thought of tomorrow
the hope of tomorrow.