Tempest Fuget

the clock ticks again and again,
a reminder of each treasured moment,
as some moments pass and need to be left behind,
bread crumbs on the path of living,
illustrating a path that will not be walked in return,
mementos of unknown significance that can not be cashed in for anything of value yet priceless in the living,
until the living ends and the ticking continues.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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