You are a cloud of the Past,
shrinking in memory as time
ticks by; Soon the cloud is gone!
The new generation, on a tenuous
toehold, speaks a language
that waltzes over mind;
A bridgewide gap or a mouse trap?
You have reached a stellar stage
when what happens is only a happening;
It may anger or please but is
only a passing of breath, no more.
Growing old is refining the glint of memory.
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