The empty hours steal the day
as we attempt to seek distraction
a temporary get away
in quietude and conversation—
and though we have but naught to say.
and though our stories rarely change
peace is found repetition.
Across the lines, we borrow time
diversion from this hill we climb;
another day, the same refrain
unsure just what we hope to gain,
perhaps we’re looking for the same…
searching for an intervention
for loneliness without a name
© Ginny Brannan 2022
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.