Don’t forget
What lies ahead
Will soon be strewn upon a path
That harbors All
The days that fall
Prey to the call of Aftermath
This which we hold
Of tainted gold
Will crumble in the hands of time
Then don’t forget
What lies ahead
Soon blooms on tombs of Yester-clime
Ah, listen well
Time’s tolling bell
Insists upon dawn’s sacred due
Today, the tryst
That stands betwixt
The ever old and ever new
Then don’t forget
That far-off ‘yet’
Will soon beget its echo-sheaves
What blooms o'erhead
Will soon be spread
Across death's dread like scattered leaves
© Janet Martin
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!