Wednesday, April 3, 2013

A poem for Wednesday

April 3, 2013

Peripheral Hindsight

Swifter years hold
tighter grasps
as they fall
and wisp
away
like
gentle
feather
shackles.
Inescapable,
and yet they are
still so infinitesimal.
Sometimes you feel them
and then sometimes you don't.

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