Ode To The Old

Distant lands
Planned but wasted summers
Wash away the waves of my imagination

Soft, light silk
White, weightless
Fabric

Humidity, sweet tea, wine and a gentle breeze.

Just like our time
Youth comes in momentary glances;
It carries on without a warning or reminder.

Shadows of movement, dancing bodies
Imitating the core, the unwritten
Pattern of Fibonacci.

What are we?
But souls swirling through space and time
Part of an infinite microcosm

But the stories lost
Through the flames of Alexandria


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