Soon you would be nothing at all to me
Forgot; thus I save you in poetry
Yesterday’s sun spilled in rivers of gold
Today the sky weeps metallic tears; cold
All that we hold is a bold, calloused wink
Save for a poem sealing whispers in ink
Then, in the sorrow of morrow’s today
Nothing can steal it forever away
Morning is eager to drink noon, then night
Time; a voracious tick-tock appetite
We cater to its appointments of air
Poetry pens its triumph and despair
For too soon all would be nothing at all
Lost to the ages where new pages fall
But, in a poem we traverse once more
Back to the faces and places of yore
Moment, be kind while the mind tries to find
and frame the right pieces we soon leave behind
© Janet Martin
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!