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RE: DAYDREAMS / A Journal of Fiction #29
Lady fate is knocking on my door
Even though my muscles are sore
I still raise myself to be a gracious host
I remember that even in my best moments she still never for me raised a toast.
All I can do is offer her what meager I do have
I will now do my part and let her leave
No point in now taking from her
When the unkind father time has left within me no desire
It always pays to be nice to fate.