Poem: The Passage of Time

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Soft as a rose petal
the skin of a newborn babe
so sweet and innocent
sleeps on, ignorant
of the harsh years to come
that will weather it to
the consistency of
leather.


Rough as gravel
Grandmother's touch is still soft
It has seen so much
over the passage of years
the storms have not changed
the firmness of
warm stone.



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