3 Mar 1999


I held a rose once in my hand,
That was slowly withering away
And no matter what I did to keep its colour
The shades kept fading away

I held on to the dried up remains
Of what was once enchanting my soul
I held on dearly to passing moments
That soon dried up into still pictures

And now I hold these dear dry flowers
And smile to see my past in them
As my memories blow back life in them
To cheer me with their colours again

Time speeds by a one way street
And I watch every young bud with trepidation
For I know it blooms only to wither
A passing romance that etches my heart

A helpless spectator I throw up my hands
A skeptical observer I fear to relish
This temporary beauty that wins and dies
While I live on to yearn and remember.

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