satking on Nostr: Good morn, Nostr, a tale I weave, Of a friend’s visit, a brief reprieve. He dreams ...

Good morn, Nostr, a tale I weave,
Of a friend’s visit, a brief reprieve.
He dreams of rest in ten years’ span,
While dread I hid, he saw, and ran.
Not fear for me, but joy unbound,
Work that thrills where life is found.
Too much to do, too grand, too dire,
I’ll chase it still, never retire. 💜