Time is my eyes that were mine before I was born Time is my mother's eyes And her mother's eyes And my daughter's Looking back from the mirror Brilliant lavender And watercolor

Time will scratch and shift and lose its way Never to be seen again Time will mold us into something beautiful Time will sculpt us into something grotesque We will make friends with time, in time

Time is the gaze on those times I think I remember but are only remembered under red hazy skies

9/21 Postcard No. 5 Miss You

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