deepundergroundpoetry.com
Sighing in Age
Is the golden past just a delicate film of exhaustion yet relief on my lenses?
May my most vibrant memories only be such as stained by age?
I keep my talisman close to my chest, a tight breath held in my lungs
Half awaiting the magic to die, listening for the collective droning to fade.
May my most vibrant memories only be such as stained by age?
I keep my talisman close to my chest, a tight breath held in my lungs
Half awaiting the magic to die, listening for the collective droning to fade.
Published 27th Oct 2020
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