Yesterday, I saw Time
strumming a guitar. Digits
professing that
summer was gone,
chewed and swallowed like
a grape. Still, he picked
strings, pining for her
to return and sing.
Yesterday, I saw Time
She writes what she speaks.
Yesterday, I saw Time
strumming a guitar. Digits
professing that
summer was gone,
chewed and swallowed like
a grape. Still, he picked
strings, pining for her
to return and sing.
T. Shaw 
Ooooooo, I love this!
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Thank you 🙂 it’s been in the draft box for awhile.
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I dig it!
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Wow, this reminds me of a story you shared of running into an old acquaintance! Time strumming away… time does that, and sometimes we can’t understand it. Time, the continued progress of existence is how it’s defined. Yes, who Can process this? You write so beautiful and I love trying to interpret your story. Mom ❌⭕️
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Thanks, mom. I always enjoy your interpretations.
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