Saturday, 20. March 2004
Passages - 1
A heap of gardenia petals on the table
Passage of time into the billfold
Of history, years creased with use.
What survives is real. What is reality?
Dark clouds, juncos feeding,
Hope for the years that are remaining,
Silvers of waves on a river swelling,
And a man’s fingers dropping
One petal after another onto the floor.
My Poems
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