as time slips by idly and
not trying harm but being is such
only such and I on my own see it
so thinly it rests in
strands on a line
drying on sunny days near
porches of old widowed time-mothers
drinking iced tea of eternity and
speaking of how forgetful are children
and how lonely the world as time
dries quiet and clean in the sun
© 2011 Yorgo Douramacos
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