Poems ✍️
  27.08.2025
  32

Author: Charles Bukowski

Luck

once
we were young
at this
machine...
drinking
smoking
typing
it was a most
splendid
miraculous
time
still
is
only now
instead of
moving toward
time
it
moves toward
us
makes each word
drill
into the
paper
clear
fast
hard
feeding a
closing
space.


  nostalgia Time creation

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