Choice
Where is that day
I've waited for,
it is hidden here somewhere.
It has gone astray
for quite a while
a needle in the pile.
But does it matter
to bruise my mind you see
has become glister
in the drink,
and so I look
for the good book
as I seek
the real me.
A contralto voice
sings from the station,
the music soft and woe,
and my desk light
by my side enjoins the fight
and aids my choice
in his eyes I know I grow.
in this world of one nation.
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