Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Before Its Demise






Already Day dwindles
First dawn disappears
As tick-by-tock swindles
Half-breaths into years

Futile to be beggars
In Want of the Past
For no one can barter
With one moment cast

My, my, how an hour
Slips through thin-skinned sighs
Its lilt like a flower
That opens then dies

Where Before-to-After
With gossamer spheres
Spills heartache and laughter
To love’s guerdon; tears

Already dawn dwindles
Birth’s blush from the breeze
As tick-by-tock kindles
Almost-memories
 
Today’s invitation
With each moment cries
For our attention
Before its demise

© Janet Martin

...off to 'attend' to those almost-memories!

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