poetry about time
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Between midnight and dawn, When the 13th hour strikes, Before the hourglass turns, When the calendar sits empty, Before the old year has gone, Time loses its meaning.
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Like the 3 faced goddess, I’ve lived 3 lives in one: see The maiden I was, the mother I am, And the crone I’ll become. The Circle of Life and the Wheel of Time Spin together as one. In an unending dance- It shifts like the moon and rises like the sun. Ever present in
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Houses germinate like weeds, Popping up- unwanted- in the fields. The overgrowth has altered the landscape. I dig through the new branches to find the routes- Roots to anchor the present to the soil of the past. The old dirt road has been paved. A thick layer of tar to smother memory lane. I glided
Bringing Mae Flowers 