Her honest feelings
pair well with bad timing
like treacherous storms
and silvery lining
"The timings not right"
they've all said it before
clocks begin ticking
once she walks out the door
She cannot blame those
who left without warning
she flies like a bomb
on July's fourth morning
A lesson was learned
that followed her blindness
time doesn't matter
the right one is timeless
Poem by: Joy Albrecht
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