Posted in Poem



I hear in the distance
Some echoes
Out of memory
A reminiscence
Perhap a reverie.

I think that’s my voice
I hear it again
Sounds chirpy
It comes from Ancient Times
Dead Times.

There was as age
When I was me
Times have changed
There remains no more
The laughter, the light step
But Echoes of Dead Things.


If all I can see is my own shadow, I'm in my own light.

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