Last Glance
LAST GLANCE
Time slips its bond to fall on outreached hands,
Gingerly seeping through fingers,
Grasping one last glance at the Grace that was;
When you last spoke,
Last touched,
Last felt the sun upon your face,
And smiled at the warmth of it.
Memories fade yet linger - waiting for no reason,
But to be for the moment, then replaced,
By din of present life once more,
Touching one last glance of the Grace that was;
Your Presence,
When you last laughed,
Last Loved,
Last felt the wind in your hair and
Lingered in the Brace of it.
J.R. Twaddell © Reprised 2011
Copyright © John Twaddell | Year Posted 2015
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