FORTY DAYS

Forty days past forty

and soul keeps  vigil still

peering at the Northern Range

On edge of these Caroni plains

Where Venus fly 

traps

savannah solitudes

It's nature they say

to evolve

to grow

to age

and only natural

of course

that beauty 

and everything else fades 

like   rocking chairs 

and stairs 

and doubts and dreams

and waxed floors of 

yesteryears

Forty days past forty

and  decorated candles

now mourn

these forty years

Copyright©2021 by Camille Caliscia Patrick

MOTIONS OF UTTERED GRAFFITI