Childhood Grace Poem by Christopher Withers
Childhood Grace
Our world is measured in childhood grace,
Future states, as yet unfolded,
Birth the words, that claim and hold us.
Cold consumer, of the void:
Time, it strips our nous and voice,
Memories fail and slowly rust,
Our universe, it falls to dust.
Life, life, a fairy tale,
Whispered on the night,
Dreams are prone to fade away,
When silenced by the predawn light.
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4/25/2024 10:14:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
