Folding Time - Poem by Patti Masterman
In some alabaster glass, I shine
Face fresco'd by the day's first light
As time draws down to the finest line,
Noon-day clouds have attained their height.
Hours pass by like a highway flows
Turns day to night, and new to old
Till the pile of minutes soon has grown
Too tall; so then the time must fold.
Comments about Folding Time by Patti Masterman
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.