Sunday, November 9, 2014

A Grain of Sand 

There may come a time 
When you may not find me in your mind’s mirror. 

You’ll look at me, or through me, 
Like an owl may look at an old brown leaf, 
and move on. 

Thoughts of me may not fill your leisure hours; 
They may not even enter your mind at all. 
As the milkman comes, the newspaper is folded back, 
The sheets are swapped the mobiles charged, 
Your mind may let go of things 
Once deemed precious. 

A grain of sand is important 
Only when it is lodged 
Within the eyelid.

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