e-Paper Poetry of Vinx

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A trace of wrinkle

The young shall grow; I will say
When I recall the moments of clay
The big ones played some time ago;
Oh sweet memories, never let go.

These tall trees were once little
I didn’t plant, but my small kettles
Watered stems and roots till they grew
Their true reflections, I always knew…

Rewinding time, I had no hairs on jaws
And for fun, ignorantly I broke laws
Precision, I describe all smells in air
At the mirror, breeze blew my grey hairs…

Spilling my candies and sprinkles
Then I saw a trace of wrinkle;
I watched many kids grow in time
Funny how I skipped noticing mine.

©2018 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

3 Comments

  1. Wordcipher says:

    Yeah, people watch other people grow old, even houses and cars and dogs we love, but we seldom notice we age with them. Lovely

    Liked by 1 person

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