The Picture

The picture stands out against the white
Of my living room wall.
A few birds still call.
A fascination with sunlight
Which, as I watch, slowly dies away.
The night
Takes the day
And the picture we see
Is lost in obscurity
Although we hope that this light
We borrow
Will be seen on the morrow,
But this we can not know.

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13 thoughts on “The Picture

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