THE PASSING OF YEARS

The years pass
Without a word
No instructions
Simply pass
One after the other
Usually, before I get to know thee
You are gone
Just a number on the calendar
Crossed off

Spirit-dog stands at my side
My companion
He warns bears not to come
Into the yard
To keep a sacred distance

Each day I dig the hole
A little progress daily
A hole in the earth
Just my size
Wrapped in
White linens
A final resting place

The morning still and quiet
I listen for that sound unusual
Never knowing the words needed
To say my say
To sing my song

I spread them all out
I scatter the black words
Across the white paper
A murder of crows

I am writing about you
My every act
My breathe
Searches empty spaces
I find you there
Nestled inbetween

June 10, 2018

 

 

 

 

15 thoughts on “THE YEARS PASS/the sunday whirl #355 –poets united

    1. Yes, it is all slipping by, like water though your fingers.

      It is what it is all about after all, the destination we are all heading for. The repetitive action of daily life….

      And our spirit animal that walks beside us. Thanks for your comments.

      xoxoxoxohugs

      >

  1. There are no instructions on life. We bumble through one day at a time. We make a bit of progress daily….as we search & dig our holes.

  2. It is interesting that we can let off steam by writing about ourselves (perhaps), that we were here, made our mark, loved and lost, told our tale but kept some back because it hurts so much.

  3. Delicate yet deep! I love the spirit dog too. The rest is moving, almost melancholy, yet there is a truth there about doing what we can the best we can, from the heart, even minus instructions.

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