Yesterdays

yesterdays stole my shine
to flaunt their windy pride
I wear no coat for smiles
but buttoned by same dews
each morning, every morrow

in fated lines I lose memories
blown into time tipped brown
I keep no yesterdays for eyes
yet swing, sweet as the green
in lush heavan tipped winds

two petals I bear without
folded in untimely crease
winged on etched fragrance
for those over the hedge
who wear the same smiles
of yesterdays, of morrows

image: fotoartglamour.com

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Tags: age, fragrance, life, poem, Poetry, shapeless