Working Progress - Poem by Frances May
A working progress
Which needs to be completed
sleeps in a pocket full of opportunity.
Time passes on
and days grow short and cold
and the progress doesn't progress
and oh, I am growing old.
In my dreams I frame you with golden leaf.
My very own masterpiece.
I hang you with the rest
You are the best there ever was.
Shoot up and away -
from the seed of my ambition.
I need to sleep now.
You shall stay
Safely tucked away in my jacket pocket
and maybe I will find you
on another lonely day
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