The wool winder

The day passes into history,
it may, in the future, remind me
of something I thought I’d forget
or it may not,
there’s a lot to process in twenty
four hours and as time goes on
it feels like more.

Almost bedtime,
I am
closing the curtains to keep out
the dragons and bolting the door.

Tomorrow
which is the future now, but won’t
be then,
I will do the same things again
until that too
passes into history

© 2020, John Smallshaw.