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
