sift, the sands
sift, sift, the sands of time
sift, for loves gone missing
sifting thru a passion’s pall
bows, once sweetly kissing
bend, bend, the willows old
bend, with breezes, sighing
bending with its aging arms
through neglect, now dying
cold, cold, the winds of life
cold, to freeze the marrow
colder than a heart, misled
pierced with envy’s arrow
lost, lost, a true love’s eyes
lost, with tears, a-brimming
lost to drown inside a gaze
ne’er again … be swimming.
* This is the 3rd “sister” poem to ‘Soft, The Bells’ and ‘Swift, The Rills *
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Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, April 6, 2024
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