A day well spent
is a day without maleficence.
Certain am I,
of this usual decry.
Yet where lies the in between?
What day with the perfect mean?
Spent high, spent low
with spent smile and furrow.
Rising high,
then crashing down.
The tidal wave
it all surrounds
surrounds me all
surrounds me best
then coughs me up
just to the West
just on the edge,
nearing rest.
Sunshine bright.
We crawl and climb
we push, we pull,
we churn below.
And holding tight,
within the light –
We ebb, we flow
we meet the ground below.
An end too soon
An end so late
An end we each reciprocate.
A lifetime spent
with such usual days
A deathbed brings
a most peaceful lay.
~ The Pink Lady
The Pink Lady 