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Fading Seconds - by Daniel Draper
Crumpled and grey the sad leaves fall, slow as time,
And form a pile at my door
Of blinking half-memories,
The repetition of hours heaped on the step-
A corpse in a morgue-
Those sorry remains
Reminding us of our infant mortality
And elderly wisdom,
Shrewd, wizened and lined.
As they were at the beginning, so are they now
The sun drenched faces,
The crippled, wounded places
Of our youth, our resting places lost to the wind
In its fury, raging black,
Ancient as greed-
The remorseless slaughterer of pale faced angels
Who fell one by one
To the blood-black ground.
These, the missing links of the ages, wrenched free
From the rusted chain of days,
Sprawl forgotten in our eyes,
As we recall those sullen lies, beautiful
In the ease of our years.
The countless writhing fears
They silenced and destroyed, flowing freely
From gilded golden mouths
In the fading seconds of the past.
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