Six Thirty-seven

By
Six Thirty-seven, January 6, 2008
It’s gone
It’s passed
It will never be here again.
Time
Life.
Time is like an old house,
Many people walk through its dusty halls,
But only a few have their portraits on the wall.
Am I to just be one of them?
Only to leave a dusty footprint,
Soon to be blown away?
Forgotten?
It’s six forty-two now,
Three more minutes gone.
Lost in the wind,
Just another footprint.
In the dust
Of time.





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