The Osprey

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I gaze upon a visage

within a now long gone image

and my weary skeleton struggles to cradle

the reality of a memory so distant.

 

And when I lock eyes

with my very own reflection

I am relieved to see

the changes within my complexion.

 

Dipping my fingers into oblivion

softens the confrontation of things now gone

for it is triumphant

to wash off yesterday

in the refreshing chill

of today.

 

Jubilant droplets scatter about

as my arms bend back.

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