Time is running out
Imperfect white socks stands alone
Slowly I pick up the morning and glasses
Black and ten years old
For a moment it escapes me
Under sweater and mood
I look confused
And mirrored my hair
As a proces of continuous years
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well written , times flies and we are getting old without noticing that.
This is awesomely done……You really spat them out with great sense!!!
Well done.
I’ve added you to my blogroll, feel very free to add mine!!!
You’ll love this: http://ediomoudofia.blogspot.com/2010/05/special-bday-note.html
Imperfect white socks stands alone
I like this.
Tim Keeton
(Undead)Poet / Wizard / Teller-of-tales
http://timkeeton.worpdress.com
http://undeadpoets.wordpress.com
A very intriguing poem. It sounds happy, yet full of contemplation as well. I like your style. Compliments.
wwooww..thats a lovely one.. nostalgic memories..
im here from Jingle’s rally..
you can check my poem at
http://megzone.wordpress.com/2010/05/19/thursday-poets-rally-an-evening-of-life/
Kind of sneaks up on us doesn’t it? Love how you said you pick up the morning and your glasses.
We can feel young and old all in the same day. I enjoyed this piece. Heartspell
excellent, short but so intense & to the point, cheers Pete
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