Tuesday, March 15, 2016


Dusk strums the waning wisp of day
And folds its faded fringe away
Bronze, amethyst and misty-gray
Into the melting pot of Past
Where deep and deeper blues soft-meld
Until the little lilt we held
Is nothing save the verse we spelled
As moments become Ever-cast 

This weight of gold we hold a bit 
Before the moon and stars are lit
Above the echoing of it
Is something we cannot bind fast
For even with our fingers clenched
We turn to see the heaven's drenched 
With that which slips away unquenched
Entwined in eons Ever-cast

Janet Martin~

...but the slipping away of it was a stunning surrender,
Back to the Hand that granted it, merciful and tender

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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed by the visit! I welcome and appreciate, if thought you care to speak; the value and the input of compliment or critique