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Just Passing Time
Passing time,
Time passes.
And longing for times past.
With no pastime,
I think of past times.
Times of joy.
Sorrowful times.
Layered.
Like an alluvial plain,
I am inundated, flooded.
As the past floods in
Passing by the inner eye
I time travel.
Bad thoughts by passed
Passed all thought
They pass away.
Pass into the past
To lie again quiescent
A timely demise
For times past.
Copyright P H Brookes 20012
poem
by
Paul Brookes
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