Another day, another chance.
At life and at living.
Yet another prospect
to prefect this art.
To draw the right strokes.
To smudge and shade the gradients.
Oh! And what a blessing it is!
To see the night retiring,
leaving the door, ajar,
allowing the light to rush in,
the blushing dawn
spreading its tippet,
and the prismatic scattering
that follows,
consuming the night.
Slowly. Definitely.
Yes!
Another day. Another chance.
Second. Third… Millionth. Zillionth chance.
To breathe.
To believe.
To be busily astir.
And to beget.
Your very own concrete rose.
Mayhaps a little flawed,
but undoubtedly immensely blessed.
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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.