In A Trance Of Remembering Poem by james watkin

In A Trance Of Remembering



Age, and what drifts on by it
Upon this Time-walked street.
Tress on tress, soft as feathers.
Vocal tones, trillings sweet.

Whom you've pitied sheds what now?
And is that face, sunward
Not to be demonstrated
As what's rapt, Heavenward?

Monday, August 15, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: memory
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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