Wednesday’s Words, Early Thursday's Moods
Something about the light of the day,
Surrounding of sounds postponed,
And the race of civilization that service them.
Whether one silent or other loud,
There is something about Wednesday
That won’t be redone the next or the day after.
Expressions made practical between exploitation,
Faces altered as in cue,
Minus straight eyes for a side one,
Self-mimicked in “ya’ll”
Too many for one to shadow,
To understand ,
So, what goes on in the inaudible of the cranium?
Perhaps a dream, your never dreamt.
Joy you never witnessed,
Hope you hope to invent,
Submerge of struggles you never prospered,
Deficiency of Faith, you hope to replenish,
Or Memories only I can remember……J