Portents

Pent up with words

I penned a poem

pressing the possibility

of prognosticated dreams.

Not pleasing to all,

these premonitions

of demise.

Not placating,

not petting the mind, as

"There, there, my pet."

Portents pernicious,

testing my patience,

pirating my peace.

Yet, I put it all aside,

preparing the path

to perform and pace

through another perfect day.

Day 19