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Snowbrowth
Here we stand, distances apart, hearts divided by blindside paths. Fortunes untold, yet living until we are old, with unheld hands, makes love seem elusive in this life. Time rapidly slips through our fingertips; a betwixt fate. It doesn't seem fair as we stand despair that our hair begins to turn white with no lover in sight —a slight as we fight against the onset of age.
© 𝓢.𝓟𝓸𝓽
#poem
#poems
#poetry
#advancing years
© 𝓢.𝓟𝓸𝓽
#poem
#poems
#poetry
#advancing years
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