White Walls

in poem •  7 years ago 

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I feel the white walls gazing down at me
And watch the four faces ever watching.
Somebody asks a question, only to
Be silenced by hums of running water

A peek into the past, memories then
And now drifting on unshakeable words.
Past, present, and future are not the same
But they may intermix to make the self.

Closing my eyes I see light and then dark,
Darkness to resting to dreaming to day.
When daylight comes dancing ‘cross
Meadows, the daffodils come out and play

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