Saturday, April 30, 2016

The Crinkled Paper Scrap


When the time comes
I will be swept away.
Swept away.
There is no use
clinging to my old home.
I will be swept
to a new neighborhood
with new facts
and things so new
I will have to grow again.
Soon the new will
become old.
What is now
will not be
a faint memory.

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