Super serious poetry

Muddy Mystery

Next, click next, click next.

Persistence, patience, motivation,

All are found wanting.

Instead, despair.

The clicks; too many.

I am not generous.

My finger lingers but hovers silently,

The key left un-pressed.

Possibilities squandered. Hopes dashed.

No click. No next.

If only it had been quicker.

One less page, one less repetition, one less demand,

One less commitment.

Alas.

My attention span is not what it was.

Age has dulled my senses.

My eyes, blinking, conceal the dark void within.

The mystery stays folded.

The book remains closed.

I turn away silently.

There will be no grand reveal.

Now I will never know

What the muddy puppy that workers found trapped in a hole turned out to be in the end after being transported to a wildlife centre.

Damn you, internet.

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