In Shadows Of Stillness Poem by Peter S. Quinn

The leaping streams of all gone yesterdays
Are always with us in memories still
Like a posy of silent gold clay thrill
With everything that in a thought plays
The slowness of forgetful feathers grays
In shadows of stillness remembrance frill
Each hour in lathered up destiny fill
That shows its gifts in ground of many lays
Where there's nothing always in its waiting
Of dreams that come to be forever lost
Though always with this knowledge debating
Broken route or another that gets crossed
So much in wandering searching that stopped
Or was with the ordinary days dropped