He walks in time on withered legs
The weight of life and death upon his back
And around his neck a pendulum hangs
Swaying to his beat
He sows, he scythes gives love and grief
The steady pace of time
And lives he reaps to history’s keep;
Succumb to the march of time
Desmond,
As soon as I started to read this poem a mental image appeared in my mind, one which I think is familiar to most people. I enjoyed this appropriate description.
Thank you for this
Keith
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DESMOND CHILDS
Wed 20th Feb 2019 21:14
Thanks for the comment Keith very much appreciated.
All the best Des