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Friday, June 26, 2009

Memories of the Past

A mongrel walks politely
Through the warm summer streets
An echo of an older time
He sits and begins to eat-
He dreams of days long gone
A day once left for him
He sees the ancient photographs
Of the way things used to be.

And in the daze of morning
Beneath a cup of joe,
He sits silenty atop the mountain
Of aging dreams and snow.
A morning breathe of nicotene,
Strapped firmly to a chair
Sits and wonders patiently,
Why should he even care?
To breathe in this new world
Full of materialistic gold
The sons and daughters of the whole
Now just stories for the old.

Beneath the ancient sea,
Of a tempest on the coast,
He can feel the warm breeze whisper
Dreaming of the most
Precious thing hes ever seen
His angel from above
The one who once held him close
And showered him with love.

But now he sleeps alone,
A shadow of his past,
He sips his morning coffee,
Praying that his dreams will last.

Beneath the summer sweat,
That drips carelessly from his brow,
A single tear hides elegantly,
Pain and fear may never show.
To hide from futures bringings,
What may be just around the bend,
An echo of a simpler time,
Is clearly at its end.

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