The Greener Grass
When I find her,
that special something about her,
gleaming like a morning star.
When I find that one,
will she be an old one,
one I had found already?
Will time fold itself
back to a moment forgot,
shall I be older or younger?
She is the special one,
is she not?
I love her
for I saw her in the yet to come.
Look, she has brought with her
sweet, ripe memories,
ghostly recollections they are.
Now I see clearly,
that have long turned
to rot.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
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