Here's a poem about January 23rd, 2069: The future is waiting, with its doors open wide, And the world is a canvas, for the stories we decide.
By Poems 3 years ago in Poets
Returns are a journey, from where we have been, A chance to start over, and make amends. To go back to the beginning, and do it again,
Here's a poem about what lies "under": Under the surface, of the calm and still waters, Lies a world of mystery, waiting to be discovered.
Disappointment creeps in, like a thief in the night, Stealing our joy, and causing us fright. It clouds our vision, and steals our peace,
Beneath the sky so blue and bright, The leaves they rustle in the breeze, And carry scents from far off trees. The sun it rises, then it sets,
Opposites, a tale so old, Of two sides, forever bold. One is light, the other is dark, Together, they create a beautiful mark.
Darkness surrounds me, A shadow that won't fade. No hope in sight, Just an endless charade. The future is bleak,
The advantage of using a bridge loan is that it provides temporary financing to fill the gap between the purchase of a new property and the sale of an existing property. This allows the homeowner to purchase the new property without having to wait for the sale of their current property to be completed, which can take time.
Oh least favorite food, how I do loathe, The taste and texture, leave me with no hope. It sits upon my plate, a frown in sight,
Volatile, a force so extreme, A mood that can quickly shift, it seems. It rises high, then falls just as fast, A tempest that never seems to last.
Unpredictable, a force so strong, A journey that can last so long. It brings us twists and turns, up and down, An adventure, with no set bounds.
Neighbourhood, a place we call home, Where the streets are filled, with laughter and drone. A community, where we all belong,
