Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Of All Our Other Days...





…and all our other days
Have slipped into the trance
Of bygone; still, the ways
Of time dare us to dance

This is our mortal must
Not merely to exist
But to wring from Time’s dust
The uttermost of it

For soon this bitty bloom
Will falter ‘neath our gaze
And slip into That Room
Of all our other days

That Room, for all its boast
Of highs and lows and such
Claims every uttermost
And seals it from our touch

 We embark once again
Upon dawn’s newborn ways
To face what yet remains
Of all our other days


© Janet Martin

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