Old thoughts Anew

Seconds of Dew tears adorn

falling flake petals which carpet hours with minutes.

But hours slide through Day’s grasping fingers and Days now run into weeks.

Months in relay race forward to taped years.

As ageing decades sieve tears forlorn

hands recede to folds on brittle sonnets

As past memories in strength do peak –

with sadness then recede within, to the Spirit of one’s peers.

 

 

 

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