Poetry

Mishit

Every Day is Not Sunday, they say,
You Can’t Duck a Monday, they say,
Life is Not Meant to be Perfect,
And if you See, So are They.

There is No Charm
Hitting the Bulls Eye Every Time.
There is No Harm
With Boo-Boo from Time to Time.
I Want a Blue Day,
When there is No Noise.
I Want the Flue to Stay,
For my Rout to Voice.

Hit and Miss are a Part of
The Parcel called Life.
There is No Shame,
If the Circle would Complete.
Furthermore, it could Craft
one-off picture,
If a few Pieces
Of the Jigsaw won’t Fit.
So, Once in a While,
Willingly, I Would Mishit.


Photo Credit: meineresterampe

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