Sands

Piled high,
paper in every print,
sifting through where time was spent,
aware, out of body experience,
remembrance, days won’t come back, they never did when wished for, won’t come back now,
those bridges burned,
life like the wind with fire fuel, endless ’til the sands die down.

Emily Cloward ©

5 thoughts on “Sands

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