Hoping We’ll Have Sun


The pages take it rather well
they swallow hard and face their fate
If there's nothing to say, then there's nothing to tell
and, so, the pages have to wait.
I get the feeling I tend to stop
where I would normally have begun
I get the feeling the world is watching,
and waiting,
and hoping we'll have sun.
The pages take it right to heart
after all, they've been empty as spaces
Not even the smallest sign of a start
to any of many magnificent places
"If there's nothing to say, then there's nothing to tell.
If there's nowhere to be, then there's no place like hell,"
said the page to the page
as they sadly engage in a silent inhale
as they all told no tale.
Then, letting out their breath,
they'll yellow in their death-
and fall apart at touch,
having lived not very much.

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