I circle the decaying staircase,
Feeling dreams slipping past,
Wandering through the beauty of vision unfulfilled,
Frustrated by promises unreached.

Beneath crumbling steps,
I traverse winding stairs,
As the sound of children’s laughter,
Lies hidden behind the fading door of memory.

I circle …

Through halls of disappointment,
Hollow echoes of aging desire,
Gray with the battering of time,
Sagging under the weight of history’s dust.

I circle  …

In  moment of despair,
Lifting my head to scream,
I behold the ornate beauty,
In the center of a life well lived.

I circle …

Remembering the joy of a first kiss,
The delights of a baby’s birth,
The gentle clasping of our hands,
Wrapped in the strength of promises kept.

I circle …

Shaking the weight of decay,
Breathing in the elegant memories,
Of a love that has sustained us,
Through the spirals of time.

© John A. Taylor, 2013

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