Scrapbook Days
When fortune shuts
her twinkling eyes
on all we’ve ever known,
when our universe crashes down
like hung-head guests at final rites,
as chaos usurpues all order and reason,
as swarms of reality consume our
long-sustained illusions,
run to the shelter of my hands,
let your fears melt into my arms,
listen closely as I whisper us back
to scrapbook days
where the only pictures
are of you and I
fleeing the end of times
under sun-lit skies.
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Great imagery! Awesome message of hope š
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