Future Imperfect Tomorrow comes on wings dark and implacable, But I was not yet done with today. Too many things that I needed to do, Yet more things that I needed to say. Faces faded to memories at midnight's stroke, An echo of a touch, scent lingering in the air. Only distant ghosts now walk at my side, Where once walked those caught in time's snare. I should resent the relentless tick of the clock, the limited hours streaming by and by, But though I thrash at the future's pull, At least I had the chance to say goodbye.
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