TheFeatheredSleep – Times of life/Life of Time
In the olden days
they mined towns for their ore
like men drank youth from the
neck of local girls
until everything became brittle
time fled ahead
to something unrecognizable and sour
then we looked up from our tasks
seeing a familiar chink of light in day
years falling away, yellowed pages
surprising us with how many
collected at our feet
how could, all this time have gathered, and
dust in our hair, as we sat, hunched over
our endeavors like hungering cats
without respite?
Without children, our marking
of the passages of life, mislaid somewhere
a half mended cardigan
no longer fitting right
we skipped from pursuit to distraction
thinking it possible to always return
to that hour we woke
our heads wet with the burnished zeal
of awareness
now, now we have slept
without knowing our slumbering
the turn of years into decades
our prodigious output, a heavy…
View original post 207 more words
cabbagesandkings524 