Counting Stars At Noon

Yes, days would fall like rain
Rapping the window pane,
And squander like the cigarette
Constantly burning in the tray,
And it will stain with somber prints
Like your lips on your coffee cup
But we shall not count stars
When the daylights sun is still on
And we shall not count dying days
When the night had gallantly dawn
But until then, in the brown turfs
And rocky aisles of the winding road
We shall reckon… We shall be owned.

poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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