The clock
Strikes again,
I’m lost in all my
Silver.
A sliver of
What’s all to
Come, and what all is
Waiting for me.
I hope for no
Dreary outcomes.
I miss workaholic
Routines.
Stacking bread,
Watching the gold
Shine.
It’s so fanciful.
Yet, I hold no shame
In it; but I wish
For more
Fortune.
