Aug 28, 2017 · 1 min read
What will we remember
When the hot sun fades
To cold shadows, shades
Of mortality creeping through
The veins of the leaves,
Brittle skeletons,
Eking out the echoes
Of our days.
What will we remember
When the shouts linger louder
Than the smiles
When we long for the noises
That annoyed us
The voices that were raised
For little things.
What we will remember
When we look for the glass
Half full or half empty:
Nothing…
Just the shattered remnants of a fragile past.
