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Falling Sand
May 2, 2022
Time is not
kind.
Nor does it pretend
to be anything
but true.
It ticks
mercilessly.
Taking no heed in
our cries for it
to slow.
So that we may breathe
deeper,
feel the wind.
Yet it slips through
our hands.
Steals our breaths.
Hair graying while never
moving.
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Just a poem I wrote on New Year's Day.