Aged Mirrors (91) Poem by Raquel Angel Nagler
Aged Mirrors (91)
Rating: ★5.0
The garden of shadows.
We harvest the tears
Of the tree that we were:
The deep fruit.
Small hours.
Even our gaze has shrunk.
We measure the sea
By a wave. By a ripple.
Little by little
Inside us: the patience of water.
We realize we can't hasten
The waves we're made of.
Wednesday, February 23, 2022
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5/16/2024 11:59:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Another little gem of a poem. Top marks again.