Conditional Perfect

Just before another
dreamless pass,
grace veils
yesterday’s regrets
with just enough
obscurity,

and acceptance
blankets the dwindling hours
with a weary resignation,

tucking me in
to all that was too real
about the day
with an imagined
kiss on the forehead
that whispers,
You did all you could,
didn’t you.

While in the corner
a mythical bow
stands at the ready,
its quiver full of hope
to aim at tomorrow
before it gets away
again.

Claire Juno, © 2017

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