Aged Mirrors (88) Poem by Raquel Angel Nagler
Aged Mirrors (88)
It's late in our life.
The unknown is no longer a promise.
It is the name of our fear.
Behind us:
The years of scattering our gaze,
Our voice.
There is so little of us left.
Our body, as aged as our years.
There is no song left:
No wings to our voice.
Our mouth becomes pedestrian.
---
From Aged Mirrors - trilogyofthemirrors.com
Monday, November 22, 2021
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7/29/2025 11:59:51 PM # 1.0.0
