Each Time Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Each time's in mood of no year returning
Filling empty spaces with mislaid woes
What you try to find - is either win or lose
Nothing's forever - forgetting burning
Flourish casts missing into pale outlook
Deep dispositions fade so much away
Like the rain is falling on to life's tray
Getting back the thoughts the years in old took

Every contrast coming returning dust
Ripples of evening tincturing on
Till every shade has fallen to grim
Years are passing into times of lost
Filling every day with songs once done
As we our posies of times out trim


Happy New Year – everyone!