All things Pass


Days of flatness, endless
contemplation of emptiness.
in isolation from the world of others.

Colours hide in endless greys
and I sag, imposter in my own life.
Time is finite, yet I squander
moments soon lost forever.

I drag my weighted boots outside
to complete prescribed exercise.
Outreach, prior to my last surrender.

Daffodils nod, and I remember
my child’s delight in yellow trumpets
forty years, or more, ago. Today
they pale, before my jaundiced eye.

I turn to go, retreat inside. Then stop.
A friend I doubted, calls my name,
I remember a time
when her hand clasped mine,
her hug held me.
Our old connection draws me back,
safe from my own brink

and I tremble, restored to sunshine’s
warmth, flushed by gentle pastels,
hope alive again.




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