On Shedded Leaves

When grasses wild
swept wide my wintery moor
and cool winds
gathered upon the air,
an hour-glass faraway
with weary grains
drew out my clouded dreams
slipping ever faster
in the soft smoke of timely day.
And even as the leaves withered
I sought still
to gather thoughts
of what and when and might have been.

John Scully

Hoeveel niet-geleefde levens draag jij met je mee?