An April Post

It has been a good few days, writing is a habit that is too easy to fall out of. However, the reverse must be true. I hope that it is.

Tell me, which version do you prefer? 

Start the clock again

This day is like no other. The sun rises from the east, seconds count 
out minutes, minutes spin hours and the breeze plays new leaves.
Steps and skips on streets below, little and bigger feet. Unspoken
myth that this day is, tomorrow waits and days will evermore be.
I know, but my heart is deceived, Minutes fall as rain through green.
Careless seconds count out minutes, minutes spin hours and a sleep
starts the clock again.

Shereen Abdallah ©

Start the clock again

This day is like no other. The sun rises from the east, 
seconds count out minutes, minutes spin hours 
and the breeze plays new leaves.
Steps and skips on streets below, little 
and bigger feet. Unspoken myth that this day is, 
tomorrow waits and days will evermore be.
I know, but my heart is deceived, minutes fall 
as rain through green. Careless 
seconds count out minutes, minutes spin hours 
and a sleep starts the clock again.

Shereen Abdallah ©