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Sands of Time

Poem for the never-ending poem

A hand with dry sand falling freely

I am here
I was here
I will be here until
The end, if ever there will be one since
I cannot remember when I began, maybe I
Have never even started because I run through
Countless hands, which cannot hold me since I
Flow unstoppable and fluid and encounter no stony
Obstacle on my course
I give rise to the dry
Streams and ripples that make up stories



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Raffaella Ferretti

Life always surprises me when I look for direction and measure. Writing poems and stories, Editing respectfully, and Teaching children. In the holistic sphere.