The unknown man.

The smooth side of the mug which you carress,
It was never me.
The silver in your tress,
Was never mine.
Tree rings have formed double fold throughout your life,
You never payed them any attention.
Warm embraces of time...
They will never be ours;
For there is no time like the present.
No time like the present to tell you,
That you have none left.
You have exhausted it all.
Age is simply a number darling,
And your number has been called.

by oliviaisahorridpoet
posted on 12/27/2007