The Passage Of The Years Poem by Paul Reed
The Passage Of The Years
We are but disquieted beings
Once of tender years
Now leaning with the wind as groaning oaks
Feet planted so stoutly as will never move again,
Where the passage of the years have left their leaden marks
Upon the heart and mind
And all that burns are memories
Deep within the soul
Tortured otherwise with the afflictions of living
And crying out for peace.
Sunday, June 7, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: time
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5/2/2024 2:32:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
i feel you thanks for sharing