Upon the Abscence of Childhood Memories

Here, I ponder and wander, thinking much, but not growing any fonder.

Years slip by like unraveling tapestry, shimmering slivers of silver – the ghost

Of lost memories, & how they haunt me!

The perishable good: the horrors of life coupled with its

Sinister planned obsolescence – duller and duller we become, until

On the shelf, devoid of meaning, we drip through the grates of Time;

Sagging skin, sunken eyes, and broken mirrors with reflections fast-fading,

From seed to flower, depreciating, the learned, aged stare at the sky, Death

And his mistress, Destiny, throw out a hand downward to those waiting.

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