by Maria Crisafulli
(USA)
I reach for those days. Who was I then? I wonder.
As the days dwindle to the last I cant help but die.
What I have known is no longer mine. A new beginning grows closer, my now, suddenly a fragile line.
A new ending in the making as I watch it all fade away.
In to the darkness, illuminated by the sunlight now. These days are endless, or so I thought.
All just a memory, memories of yesterday, the days we remember make up who we are today.
Comments for Drifting
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