Eventually, by rote, we live thru each day.
We know the rhythm, the beat & every play.
Two or three costume changes; twixt work, life & sleep.
We scant recall yesterday…tomorrow will keep.
Interruptions are welcome, or not; they still come.
Their aspect dependent on the day’s beating drum.
We rise & we fall in the course of life’s songs.
A single life, tallied fully, has rights & wrongs.
It’s a kindness we mostly exist in the now.
Past & future, ever seen, would break us somehow.
L.B.Stowe 