Saturday, October 29, 2011

Shifting Sands of Time

Time has a habit of slipping away
As she constantly moves in a finite direction,
No stepping back,
No childhood do-overs,
Only now and tomorrow,
Only here and hereafter.

But that doesn’t cede that
The past holds no meaning,
Or should be diminished in memory’s vault.
Her treasures are deep
And her lessons are many.
Her halls and her chambers
Lined with love, dreams and laughter.

And though the sands may shift underfoot
As the tides roll out,
As the tides roll in,
We stand at her shore
And search her horizon,
Amazed at the bounty she holds deep within.

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