#43 (From, ‘what's Really Happening - In 54 Numbers’) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Growing clusters full of mood,
Flowing tears they intrude;
Loving ways refined and crude,
Past is always past.
Arrows wounding deep inside,
Shifting away all my light;
Nowhere more my tempers hide,
Life is moving fast.

Send a massage through the line,
Telling me if you're doing fine;
After you left me behind,
Past is always past.

Flower growing in the dark,
Winter's singing in my park;
I'm feeling naked and stark,
Past is always past.