Monday, 21 May 2012

The Passing of Ages

Weariness creeps, like vines round an ancient oak
with an ever tightening grip
not suffocating, yet gently reminding ~ it is time

The passing of ages, as the sun begins its last journey
descending, into the shadows
to sleep with legends past

When darkness falls, peace ebbs through the soul
old lights fade, becoming memories
entombed, in their own eternal mausoleum

Poetryman
Copyright © 2011 by Mike Sutcliffe

1 comment:

  1. beautifully haunting! Amazing, as always Mike!



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