Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Poem: Cygnets

It is the rhythm,
This sense of

Separation, this loss
Breath held,
Forgetting to inhale

A life in

Time stopped, hanging
On memories faded
Without them

What reason to exhale?

Hear the metronome
Accept the new beat
It’s a new verse

It is the rhythm
This sense of

© 7 May 2014

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