Poetry

SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI

Time is a termite devouring my days,
denying me longevity and repeatedly
telling me, eventually, nothing
can save me from ceasing to be.
Time is a mirror in which I see
my wrinkles constantly reminding me
of my transitory grip on existence.
Mornings merge into afternoons,
my days are measured in coffee spoons
and summer soon turns into winter.
So, faced with anno domino,
I watch the kites wheel in the sky,
trying to imprint the image on my mind
as if storing it for recall after I die.

Jeremy Gadd

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