So gradually, it seemed, the way
Things pass: the ice cube in the glass
Disappears in a pool of grey;
The bright bud’s stem fades into grass.
We sit in living rooms, observe
The slowing of the walk, the skin
Worn thin, obedient to a curve
The mind can trace from what has been.
Great cities sink, and continents,
Into wide waters that endure.
Stray cats prowl crumbled monuments
We can envision whole and pure.
We mourn in comfort things’ decline,
Not realizing that the end
Will still stop hard. Brother of mine,
You’ve left us nothing time could bend.
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