Time's Palmistry
Between your fingers slip the diamonds of each day;
Seconds, minutes, hours as well
Are strewn like cinders in the muddy mire away,
Tamped and trampled where they swiftly fell.
Inside your palm, faint diamond shapes remain—
Outlines, etched from clutching tight—
These lines remind you of gemmed years upon the wane…
Diamonds gone. Soon comes the onyx night.
Copyright © Steve Eng | Year Posted 2009
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