In-Between

Cemented corner rests against my spine. Comparing cracks with one another talking of past times. Still shady as the day drags on I gaze towards walks of life. Colorless and out of breath and no one even bates an eye. Oh helplessness this seems like death, but my feet still feel life=s grass, and so I face the in between, wait for a life that=s past to pass. Well, this old man=s shaky fingertips have tipped an hourglass, and I=ve placed death=s sickle close at hand to lend it when I=m asked. -Christina Emerson-
*picture of AFather Time from Jems for the Fireside


Cemented corner rests against my spine.

Comparing cracks with one another

talking of past times.

Still shady as the day drags on

I gaze towards walks of life.

Colorless and out of breath

and no one even bates an eye.

Oh helplessness this seems like death,

but my feet still feel life’s grass,

and so I face the in-between,

wait for a life that’s past to pass.

Well, this old man’s shaky fingertips

have tipped an hourglass,

and I’ve placed death’s sickle close at hand

to lend it when I’m asked.

 

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