Centered left
the light stings
as it fades to shadow's wings
All framed
I sit this side of glass
and stare the shadows lost
this side of bright of sun
None too soon my eyes return
to study lines detailed, defined
drawn by hand
but first by mind
onto this land we think we own
Time crumbles all
time crumbles all
this too shall fall
to age
this cage we call our own
Past window glare of sun to left
not centered
balance thrown
for day will shadow more than this
and land
will steadily take its worth
no birth is new to this old world
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Interesting!
An interesting write to leave the reader to his own imagination!
Regards,
DeGraw
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