Contemplation
renovations
bruises and tattoo's
whispering incantations
passages from the here
to the next.
Waiting impatience
awaiting resignations
falling asunder
bloody plunders
in to hapless
tomorrow's filled
only with gradual
grains of sorrow.
Mourning's
Dewey awakening
as inclinations
sprout new seeds
of hope in the
garden of futures
promise.
Sigh's
contentment
I ponder the
days gone by
that now seem
to out number
the days ahead.
Author notes
Death makes one look at their own life and immortality. No one knows how many days we will get and I see my future as something far shorter than what I see as my days gone by. For the most part I am content and at peace and yet...am I really?
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