It is a pleasant masquerade
To dress in a young man’s clothes
To not act ones age

Still the sands of a hourglass are relentless
With no regards to our intentions

Years of days are filled with hours
Moments, such a small portion of the whole,

We descend on the oddest of staircases
one at a time
With no steps behind us
to retrace.

Title from: Dead can dance- “ In The Kingdom Of The Blind The One-Eyed Are Kings

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.