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Watching sand trace patterns as it runs

From one hand slowly into the other

And then on and ever on

Filling palms on its way –

And wondering and wondering

For how long will this amuse

And considering the joke as grains get trapped

Like memories I can’t displace

Thoughts I can not lose –

Images of you somewhere beyond

Somewhere above counting,  counting

And dreaming of new ways to hold us

Creating new colours on which to dwell

Pictures which blind the eye –

Accustomed now to the caressing sand which

Speaks in aging tones

An endless wheel on which to hang

And glorify the hopes to which our hands cling –

A falsehood that has been draped with

Careless abandon across our shoulder

And embraces now heavy with tears

As I still fathom the joke

 

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