We just don't quite know when the VAN will be at the door
The post ends with be the first to like this post. I’m not liking it but I will accept it. Like I have a choice.
drom AI:
**The Clock's Slow Dance**
In the quiet hum of an empty room,
Where echoes of the past softly loom,
The clock ticks on with a steady beat,
Marking time until the move's complete.
Boxes stacked like cityscapes, tall,
Each label a memory, a moment's call.
The future waits, just out of sight,
A new chapter that yearns for light.
Anxiety twirls in this in-between,
A dance of nerves, unseen, serene.
The heart flutters, a caged bird's wing,
Yearning for the freedom the new shall bring.
The mind races through lists unchecked,
Fears of forgotten things resurrect.
Did I pack the photos, the heirloom vase?
In this puzzle of time, every item has its place.
The door stands ajar, a threshold's tease,
A gust of wind, a whispered please.
Soon, feet will cross, a life will shift,
And into the unknown, we must drift.
But for now, the waiting game plays on,
A test of patience until the dawn.
With every tick, the moment nears,
To leave behind old joys and fears.
So let the clock tick, let the time dance,
For every end is just a chance,
To leap, to soar, to find, to prove,
In the anxious wait of the scheduled move.
The post ends with be the first to like this post. I’m not liking it but I will accept it. Like I have a choice.
drom AI:
**The Clock's Slow Dance**
In the quiet hum of an empty room,
Where echoes of the past softly loom,
The clock ticks on with a steady beat,
Marking time until the move's complete.
Boxes stacked like cityscapes, tall,
Each label a memory, a moment's call.
The future waits, just out of sight,
A new chapter that yearns for light.
Anxiety twirls in this in-between,
A dance of nerves, unseen, serene.
The heart flutters, a caged bird's wing,
Yearning for the freedom the new shall bring.
The mind races through lists unchecked,
Fears of forgotten things resurrect.
Did I pack the photos, the heirloom vase?
In this puzzle of time, every item has its place.
The door stands ajar, a threshold's tease,
A gust of wind, a whispered please.
Soon, feet will cross, a life will shift,
And into the unknown, we must drift.
But for now, the waiting game plays on,
A test of patience until the dawn.
With every tick, the moment nears,
To leave behind old joys and fears.
So let the clock tick, let the time dance,
For every end is just a chance,
To leap, to soar, to find, to prove,
In the anxious wait of the scheduled move.