Days Poem by Edward Webb
Days
The sun sets its cycle., a misguides perception,
There is no true edge,
For is there really a morning?
and What is a night I; pledge!
But stationed eyes still,
passes past from sight, behind a western way,
yet every moment that earth sits
Contains light of day, and the dark of night
and every setting hill on a westward sight.
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5/10/2024 10:37:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
