Traces Of Time

Anchored to nowhere,
Blank pages upon my mind,
A word or two of stillness,
Scribbled blindly in the fog...

Companion of phrase,
Tiptoes furtively out the back door
Becoming fearful of stumbling
While rhyme and reason
Slip senselessly through the floor...

Unlimited dullness,
Swaggering with a meaningful gait,
Enters the flattened obscurity,
Deepening within intervals of silence...

Disconnected illusions,
Thin and shriveled at the edges,
Trailing a flutter of withered leaves,
Coloring the traces of Time...

poem by Romeo Della Valle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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