
If all the nights
And all the days
Of my life
Condense
In one epiphany without end
Then friend hear well
That the clock, when it strikes midnight,
Will not be pointing at twelve

If all the nights
And all the days
Of my life
Condense
In one epiphany without end
Then friend hear well
That the clock, when it strikes midnight,
Will not be pointing at twelve
Your short poems always leave me wanting for more.
Also, you’d make a very good novelist as well. I know every chapter would be poetry, each and every sentence would be music.
Thank you for this lovely compliment, which is poetry in itself 🙏🏻 Eagerly waiting for your new poem
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