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
beautifully haunting! Amazing, as always Mike!
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haha. nice blog.
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