Aged Mirrors (45) Poem by Raquel Angel Nagler
Aged Mirrors (45)
Our years grow old.
Slowly we learn
How to wait without waiting,
Like the earth in our body.
The evening:
A mirror of small mercies.
We see ourselves softened
By the water in its eyes:
The murmur.
We arrive to the evening
Naked as autumn.
Without leaves.
Without dreams.
- -
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
Monday, August 26, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: spiritual
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5/6/2024 1:03:26 AM # 1.0.0.1119
