A new poem. By me. For class.
Fall's Shadow
There's a weather beaten clock
ticking out the rhythm of age
We only see in glimpses
the turns we missed in life
The skies are grey but
the eyes of the children are blue
Water pinpricks the skin but
does it cleanse or does it burn?
The puddles reflect what should have,
could have and would have
We lost ourselves in the process
of trying not to lose the others
Is it usual for tears to
drip down rock faces?
Our memories leave us
as leaves their trees
Even the ink in books not read
begins to fade in time
We carry the branches of
bittersweet to our own funerals
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