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February 19, 2024

The Futility of Last Words

By Richard LeDue

The Futility of Last Words

Fresh snow is sort of a lost cause
when you're 42,
while the boxed Christmas lights from last year
are listless as a one-sided armistice,
where the hand of god
replaced by middle-aged fingers
that stink of credit card debt,

and the safe silence behind a window
reminds one of the futility
of last words in a world,
where midnight fireworks surrender to snoring,
until another New Year's resolution diet
helps you forget there was ever a war.

Article © Richard LeDue. All rights reserved.
Published on 2024-01-01
Image(s) © Alexandra Queen. All rights reserved.
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