Forever

by Christos Polydorou

The world grew larger
as I grew older,
or shrunk
as I grew younger,
I don’t know.

Can you
know
what I mean
if I don’t?

The
seasons, the
years, the
centuries,
history,
stardust
coursing

through
our veins,
what hope
have we
unless we
discolour
our leaves
and shed
them
in the
low autumn
sun?

Say
I am
not
going thr
ough this
alone, we’re in
this together.

You can almost
spell it
in the autumn
leaves.

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