The Sunset Poet

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Trifling Tickles

In the early waking morning,

In the dawn of a new day,

A dream or a vision of the play is yet to come,

I see and I fight it,

The will to start strong or to trifle,

If I want to make a difference or not,

Or do the tickles make me stop and pause,

Sometimes itโ€™s hard ๐Ÿ˜• anand on others it's easy,

To pick up the handle and march to battle,

So I prayed and gathered,

AAll the strength anand mantle,

To walk and stagger through the fog and banter,

So here I am today in person,

Trifling and tickling,

My way to the sunset.