Tattered Shapes
Looking into empty rooms, her eyes were filled,
Memories lived in tattered shapes and played here;
As she drifted back in ages past, tears spilled,
Laughter echoed and childhood voices stayed here.
She looked upon her care-worn hands time had billed,
Reflecting on those years, how now it fades here;
She would rewind the timepiece, if she but could,
She’d circle back and live again; twice as good.
Copyright © Deb Radke | Year Posted 2011
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