Time #3

time,
it lay still,
on a bed of
cool white linen,

a breeze
sweeps through the
window.

gently
it brushes the
skin of a pale white
virgin.

she screams and cries
and beckons in stress.
unheard,
unnoticed,
we never heed her warnings,
yet she comes to our door,
with letters over a million mornings.

each word and paragraph in wind,
of our meek and beautiful end.

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2 responses to “Time #3

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