Poet to Cynic

Purple hue of sunsets, timeless laughter, moments
Of love and passion and yet more could I write.
Emotions worn like fresh laundry, vulnerable
To the stains of life, so readily soiled.

Time – Thief! – steals passion’s fire
Or at least the needed magic words

Continuous sensory assaults
Yield an unwitting change
Naught or less of poet
I wear the garb of

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