Chalk in the wind


Some days work feels

Like chalk in my hand

Watching lives

Blow away like sand

I wonder sometimes

If what I do changes fate

Watching so many

Become Mr or Mrs ‘the late’

Does it make a difference?

Does it change things at all?

When one of us is born,

Another seems to fall

I don’t have the answers

Perhaps nobody does

But I’ll continue to try

Why? Just because


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