The Illusory Solstice


Passing by. 

The yesterdays,

yellowing.

 

The people constructed,

brittle,

drying.

 

Autumnal memories

distancing, distanced.

Impalpable.

 

Through winter’s silver birth,

the illusory Solstice

standing still, reflecting.

 

The same old Spring.

New life chittering.

Time to slap the baby.

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2 thoughts on “The Illusory Solstice

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