The same days cannot be at last
The days are now or from the past
The first day has not been before
The second has no key for the same door
The time is running but is slow
We are not sure when we should go
We come to life like untouched paper
And fade away most earlier then later
The words we wished to say
Unsaid they drive with us away.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Klaus Meier. Published on e-Stories.org on 02.11.2012.