He could not make a decision,
instead
life just happened
when he went to bed at nightfall
and awoke to the rising sun,
he knew every moment could be the same
every moment could be
the same.
Nothing really changes over the decades
is what he might say
at last,
until someone forgot to listen
then the broken record seems to play the same
always a repeat
always a repeat
always a
sort of undecided truth.
She asked him later to stop being so repetitive.
© Scott F Savage 9/2021
 | a quiet man on Haiku Love |
 | Yernasia Quorelios on Haiku Love |
| a quiet man on I Took A Walk |
 | Priti on I Took A Walk |
| Priti on I Took A Walk |
Turning trauma into triumph since 1981.
Sometimes writing poems let's me forget about the huge sums of debt I'm accumulating while at college
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