….

This is the month

That my mother died.

 

The year fades fast

To memory.

 

It must have been written

In pencil somewhere,

 

On paper,

And there set in stone;

 

And after awhile,

It all erases.

 

~

Befuddled, perplexed;

At sevens and six;

 

Forwards, sideways,

And backwards:

 

The end comes undone

Before it’s begun.

 

Thus does in Time

Take concession.

 

And some dare to call it

Progression.

….

 

 

©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn

7 November 2013