Poem: The Passage of Time

-

I see
the sands in the hourglass
fall slowly to the bottom
in a pile of ash

I hear
my joints pop
and my bones creak
with every passing day.

I feel
waves of warmth
like a hot summer
though snow is on the ground

I look
in the mirror
face wrinkled
hair grey as ice

I mark
every birthday
the months pass
at the end of the year

I wonder
if I have
lived too long
and seen too much

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