With ink that barely blots when water spills.
Today, she received the 8,759th invite.
And she knew it will wane again to the night.
But she nevertheless opened the letter,
Thinking, "maybe yesterday was better."
She wasn't a bit startled to see it was not.
But a smidgen vexed by what today has got.
That letter came every morn at her doorstep,
Thousands, but none of it she kept.
Dispatcher unknown, source, unsigned.
Quite naively, it preempted how her day was defined.
The Sender won't be too happy about it.
All He wanted was for people to grow in true grit.
But He thought, "Probably with the next,"
So He sat down again and wrote with no text.
So she went on to be more bereaved,
With the invitation to rigidness she received.
Because the portraits of yesterday that it contained
Made her feel more and more chained.
Look at your doorstep --- you have the same invite;
But don't be perplexed by its mere sight.
Look well, and see what in the pictures underlay ---
Yesterday was not meant to label your today. #
photo credit: colourmehappy
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