My days are sand and water,
as a dying river gently flowing,
dawn to dusk, to slaughter
time, diminishing, not growing.
My weeks are rock and timber
as a castle by the river crumbling
spring to fall, to cinder
ash, disintegrating, tumbling
My years are wind and oceans
as a battle by that castle, raging
birth to death approaching
sand and water, slowly aging
Today Victoria is guest-hosting at dVerse and asks us to guest-host with a soliloquy, paying extra attention to form or other poetic devices, I tried with a simple rhyme scheme and some meter.
August 26, 2021