pocketful of poesy

ring around, and tumbled down

she is hobbled now, she can’t run away

you could try taming her

but it wouldn’t work as before

you find her slowly fading from the picture in your mind

first the brightness of clothes

then the freckled skin

next the darkened hair

until only the eyes are left

aloof, unreadable, neither blue nor green

but even those dim

and the wind scatters the remnants of memory to the four corners of the world

the past becomes something you forget until a rainy day in the twilight of life

when youth no longer matters for you are twychild and at eternity’s gate at last

perhaps you shall remember then, but for now, forget

lest you find yourself forgotten

in ashes, ashes