Aged Mirrors (26) Poem by Raquel Angel Nagler
Aged Mirrors (26)
Our twilight:
A murmur fatigued as age,
As the centuries of inner rain.
Evening's murmur:
The sum of our lips.
Of all the mouths that we were.
Late hours.
We never look
At the distances of the tomorrow
For fear
Of not finding ourselves.
Aged years.
Even our language shrinks.
There are only
Small things left to say:
- -
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
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9/25/2024 4:25:10 PM # 1.0.0.1119
