The long sorrow of these latter days
embeds itself in the sight, sound
and fragrance of the cool, pale
days of spring, and each sense
brings up memories, wheeling
gulls against the white and pale
blue of these ephemeral hours
that count our draining existence.
The dead and lost come and go,
fragments of their lives resurrected
and lost again, like we are,
a ghost among ghosts wondering.
17.04.2025
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