Twilight

Our turtle years are speeding up as though there’s sparse time left,
distorting all our reveries and leaving us bereft.
All that vanished life that fades into the mist—
those pearls of perfection like the first time we were kissed—
all the names and faces of those we once embraced—
dissolve into the air as though they’ve been erased.

All those former altars once bedecked with flowers,
garlands of celebration that vanished with the hours,
days and then the years now gathered in our past,
all those lives we built, not engineered to last.
Soon we will just be a name carved upon a stone,
to join with other spirits in the twilight zone.

Twilight

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle # 663  the prompt words are:air embraced pearls perfection turtle altar garlands reveries vanish name built mist