Days Are Broken (From, Poems Of Papa Due) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Days are broken,
All is turning;
What isn't spoken?
For all my yearning.
You are giving,
And so gratifying;
To the strange living,
This is hard defying.

Life must go on,
Through the day and night;
There is so much done,
For the things to turn right.

Days are hidden,
In the horizon;
Like an abbreviation,
Before coming sun.
Streets and gardens,
With their yesterdays;
Variation and wardens,
From the certain declivities.

Life must go on,
Through the day and night;
Cobblestones and aileron,
Everything from way at sight.

Days are ours,
Fresh and splendor;
Wall time flowers,
And all its engender.
You are living,
With constant gratifying;
Positive and negativing,
What the sight is eyeing.