the Days keep on
slip
slip
slipping
through my fingers
as though
they were
Tiny Children
stepping onto the ice
for the very first time.
my Mind keeps on
race
race
racing
back into the past
as though
it was a Race Car
on the track of time.
my Heart keeps on
beat
beat
beating
closer to the end
as though
it was Ringo Star
at his last concert.
These Days by origamikitty
Poetry » Life Rated: K, English, Words: 69, Published: 1/27/2004
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