There was a time, long ago, when in your life
things were beginning; all new things sprouting,
old ones enduring. Then, they started to
pass, people moving to exist in memory
and stone. Yet new replaced the old, or
at least came to be in the empty places
left, a stream of faces flowing through your
life. Now its waters run low, you approach
the time for you to live in memory and stone,
as a fading echo over growing distance, in minds
behind faces you struggle to name. Oh, you
will be buried with them on indifferent days
you will never see, an echo gone into silence.
04.06.2023
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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