Bittersweet in every sense
As the sun settles on my skin
Don't count now
The numbers far too low
Time growing shallow
As the river before me
Man-made and proving
We Create Our Own Beauty
But looking for the sweet
Numbers cloud my head
Seven. Seven. Seven.
Is to repeat it three times bad luck?
Sending me speeding on a track
Towards a home that's no longer home
Seven.
Will once make it definite?
A proven fact in a world
Laced with confused thoughts
Seven. Seven. Seven.
Stop Counting. Start Living.
