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Seconds

Each second dies so brief it stays among the minutes, hours, and days of living’s murmuration spell, in which we mortals have to dwell; as each moment slowly decays. Time is inconstant; it betrays; traps you in it’s alluring maze; then so, quite when, it’s hard to tell, each second dies. Time is not all that it portrays, that of a roll of endless days. Too soon, you’ll hearken your death knell,  tolling seconds fond farewell; as fickle time, with you, it plays, each second dies.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Date: 1/31/2025 12:40:00 PM
We do not know or have any way of knowing what the next second will bring. Good thoughts penned about how each second can pass and be remembered. Thanks for sharing. Sara K
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Terry Miller
Date: 2/1/2025 2:46:00 AM
Thank you Sara I appreciate you stopping by and your kind comments
Date: 12/8/2024 9:19:00 AM
Brilliant Rondeau, Terry. This resonates with me now that I’ve reached my 70s. I love the first stanza with its line, “of living’s murmuration spell.” A Fav for me.
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Terry Miller
Date: 12/11/2024 7:37:00 AM
Thank you so much Mark.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things