adventures in dysthymia

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Erosion, a poem

Erosion

Each lover we thought we needed,
without whom we could not live,
fades. Day by day, year after year,
the memories erode, crumble into
the river of time and are washed
away. What sea holds them all?

Stephen Brooke ©2016

A very quickly written bit, sort of a throwaway --- actually, the sort of statement that might show up in prose form in a novel sometime.

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