Saturday, March 22, 2014

Time Marches On

The evening folds
itself coldly,
pockets of
wet and ice,
gray forgotten slush
bordered
by sidewalk salt
white stain and
a thick sheet
of ice slicking
the dark pavement
of my driveway
and the splintered
old garage
at an unrequited slant
begging time to stop
gravity yet moves onward
like a delirious dream
of white walled infinity.

- - - - - - - -

(February, 2014)

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