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All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
Eventually, memories settle down;
Later still, perhaps, go back to sleep.
Life cannot hold so much of life for long,
Yet now I hold it dancing in my hands.
Though everything is now, now
is not;
Each moment dances in a sea of light.
People were and will be, never are;
Present is a glass through which we wonder.
Everywhere are ghosts that dance in dreams
Rounded by the curvature of time. |
