A devotion to feelings that are beautiful but fleeting. A tribute to the transience of life in all things but memory.
When I am old
A crocheted blanket across my knees
Against the clammy damp
Of morning
In the growing mist of age
And with those times far off
I will ache and smile for you, my friend
Long gone
A violinist on a half-lit stage
Transfixed by strains– throbbing toward silence
Devoted to transience
And the fading of things
His strength is in his love
His love
In the aching.
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