March 6, 2007

Roomy Fnords

You were a tragic tale
some petal torn too soon
to lay with who you were
while life passed by, and grew
like shadows under you.

Through heavy winds we blew
though change, she graced us not
with shoes we won't outgrow
and likewise prodded there
the part, divides our hair.

This present turmoil counts
the days from then to now
and yielding none to us
of joy, squeezed in its fist
like blood, drips from its lips.

I'll pave my road in time
and travel hard and fast
yet never o'er life's pace
in constants, though displaced
these lines, my aging face.
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