Friday, July 29, 2011

The washed, dry paper

Poem by Marc Aupiais

I look at my world,
Colours fade,
And fade into streams;
Washing has become;
The slate wiped clean;
They said;
Almost clean;
Vivid colours;
Like quicksilver on a rock bed;

And here I watch;
As my world;
Is slated clean;

Wiped away;
Washed away, that's me;

Washed up,
Into the wash;
Plenty a brag;
From a fading past;
But uncaring,

I sit; head down;
Memory fading;
Vivid colours;
Greys, and whites;
Memories fading;
I- nothing;

Upon a blank-er-ing page!

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