The days slow down,
time claiming its crown.
you weep,
Miserably,
dying internally,
for you live for the past,
a time come and gone fast.
Life goes by quickly, not the birds nor the breeze,
can for long freeze,
for the days go on and on.
The summer comes,
and ice and snow melt,
the green grass dies,
and the mountains' have gone frail.
When you feel for the past, as much as you fear for the future,
the days that go by can seem like a drag.
You feel the way,
with an attempt not to break the glass.
The fragile grass, that can crumble beneath feet,
and the glass that is strong, and can withstand long without defeat.
Still with these attempts, the blindfold tightens,
you need to let go,
but how have others done it?
YOU ARE READING
Mirrors
PoetryShort poems I've made. They were made at different points in time. They are a bit of a reflection. I hope you like them.
