Now wash your hands

Sometimes a day goes on too long
in a quiet dragging way.
Not so significantly wrong
it crashes   ̶─  but, let’s say,
something more like an off-key song
you can’t shift off re-play.
Perhaps it’s time to move along.
It could turn out OK.

D.A. Prince


If you have any comments on this poem, D. A. Prince would be pleased to hear them.