The Arrow

Time covers all things:
piling up with the bills,
waiting on the doormat
until they can’t be ignored.

Borrowed dreams must be
returned to the darkness.
The sun’s opening now calls
out for a distant prayer.

Memories are what you have
left when the day comes,
echoes of evening’s love,
ringing in tired ears.

Time covers all things,
hiding our lustful eyes.
Moments consume the soul
with the clarity of a fire.

the-arrow

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