Lost Age

just as the fresh moist flower withers and dies
so too does pink flesh grow gray and gaunt
atrophying stretched around my skull
sagging in creases from my torso
a tenuous grip on youth now severed
a nostalgic grab for yesteryear eternally fades

Pastel on Handmade Paper

Pastel on Handmade Paper

© Dawn Whitehand 2013

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