Time
Ephemeral blur.
Is what our hearts endure.
As though it were written in a cosmic stir.
Yet, stoic hearts still abide.
And the prettiest flowers soon die.
Sowing golden seeds in life's aeonian rhyme.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
