Without intentional pause, this one lily would bloom unnoticed,
lost
In the applause of louder plumes
The riot of mere moment leaves
Within its aftermath
The Thing that brings us joy or grief
Depending on its Path
A moment is a twinkle in
The filament of years
But moment hinged to moments spins
Much more than first appears
The overflow of come and go
In moments, seems quite trite
But weaves with whispered undertow
A legacy of life
© Janet Martin
Wonderfully put and kept in mind.
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