Moving east to west
here to there,
simulacrum:
tide turns time
to fragments
sand through my fingers.
‘Things’ seemed
so precious
now laugh
at me.
Children grow
like weeds
laughter in the trees;
now time’s a dream
hung in this moment
of becoming.
Moving east to west
here to there,
simulacrum:
tide turns time
to fragments
sand through my fingers.
‘Things’ seemed
so precious
now laugh
at me.
Children grow
like weeds
laughter in the trees;
now time’s a dream
hung in this moment
of becoming.
