There’s two hours till I hit the hay –
Enough by any count
To stack the memories of the day
To see how high they mount.

I took delivery of some paints
And jumped a colleague’s car
And listened to a friend’s complaints
And dropped a mustard jar.

Yet everything I undertook
Was done with such an air
That none who saw could overlook –
Aware I was aware.

And, even as I reminisce,
I’m very much aware of this.

Photo by Lanju Fotografie on Unsplash

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