Moments of Change

And in the low of the eve the cotton seed spins timelessly.

The harp, the home, the houses we know

are like catalysts of change.

The wind, therein, blows as the willow’s sigh…

The hearth that touches an eye ignites.

A blind man, he, learns to see!

While woodworms know to find a crevice to grow.

Heart’s do rend…

Morning’s are fair a-gain..

Within the realm of moments past.

Ever to linger as others gasp.

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