Immobile Poem by Barbara Villabol

Immobile



Time waits for no one, spinning in place,
making no changes, keeping the pace,
sorrow so quiet, hardly showing a trace,
sapping your passion, keeping you complacent,
never making great waves,
risk to a minimum,
adventure no longer a place
in your future,
quietly accepting, despair your new face.  

Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: verse
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