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About This Poem
Introspection
Time stands immortal our lives being finite,
Consumed in the fire of lost years.
Now gone the independence of youth,
We could not wait to grow up,
Now wiser ravaged by the turmoil’s of life.
At times fame and adulation,
And at others left licking our wounds.
Moments like us soon to return to dust,
Blown away in the winds of time.
© N Windle
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