Routine

Enchanted mornings 

on a fair twilight.

The fading moon

is blanketed by misty clouds,

so are the stars

that are coated for a few hours hiatus.

Dawn approaches with its promise 

of a brighter day.

The erosion of slumber sets in

with a hymn and our Lord’s prayer.

The day ahead, with a hopeful gaze

stretches beyond my optimistic expectations, with a drab end at the setting of the grinning sun.

‘The day is over’ it says

Tomorrow is another day.

Another day of routine hopes

with its attendant drabness.

A routine of expectations of an entire lifetime in the dull-coloured decades of seventy, eighty, ninety, hundred, as our strength endures until the sun finally sets.