Fifty-two is like a
full-blown flower
Iridescent with the sheen of days.
Fine petals droop just slightly towards the floor,
Thin velvet strokes of beauty, wanting more,
Yearning in the sunlight of our
gaze.
There is no loss of
happiness, for our
Wishes haunt the windings of our ways,
Opening each turn another door.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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