Today's poem
Untitled
The pull of tomorrow
Reverberates through us,
Dragging us into its dizzy, fierce thrall,
As a crow circles overhead,
Squalling and screetching,
Wings wide, gliding down and down,
Before riding up once more,
Pulled as much as we are,
Unable to fight
It's own wind of change,
Blowing the colour of red dust
Along a deserted highway,
Open road stretching as far
As the eye can see.
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