I better write this
While it is not compelling me, but
Impelling me to.
While not knowing why,
I have an idea,
What it’s about.
The day only comes once a year,
The smell of it, I know.
What it’s about I don’t.
So, what does today mean, to me?
A rather lonely sojourn?
While everyone’s in the know?
Why should I bother?
But I do. The day is another beautiful day
Isn’t this why we are free to celebrate,
Because it is another beautiful day?
Unleased with light.
Since that day many years ago.