Archive

It’s my life in this archive
I’ve recorded every day
Days are scattered in the files
That I have no time to play
Time’s an eater of my seconds
Crumbles falling on my keys
I admit that I was beckoned
By the sun behind the trees
By the hyacinths and cacti
That were blooming every spring
And I was right there, was I
Every time your bell would ring
You were sending me red roses
The most beautiful you’ve grown
They are saved, time can’t erode this
You are everything I own..
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

Poem

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