the span of life

the pickpocket takes off

your hard earned cash

while you have to make

good your painful loss

or be it somebody you’ve


fate being even more

devastatingly unfair

has life though ever been

fair to you?

the artist paints the tears

she’s cried

the poet strives forlorn

beaches of makrigiallos

days of happiness are

short lived

he rushes to hold on to

like to a twist of sand

that runs from the clutch

of his fist –

the span of life’s

measured out

you cannot fight –

the span of life.



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