Hot buttered rum or three

Once hid reality.

Your accidental children’s laughter,

The vague smell of dried pine needles.

A glance to validate adult distraction.

The moment does not matter,

Tomorrow, next week, next year

Weighs heavy among ribbons and wrapping paper.

The new moon lifts the tidal flow

To flood the mind once again.

Three hundred thirty days to do repairs, AMEN



Dhat888 - The Wizard Speaks

Love podcasts or audiobooks? Learn on the go with our new app.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store