Grey Day Passing

Rooms of dust,
warm roses, black
ashen rimmed and flecked

door half opened
to anyone passing.

Silvered ancient
walks his shadow dog,
head held down-

fallen heavy fog.

Loose-leashed twine,
shadows bind, pulling
on his creaking spine

grey day passing.

By the door
broom and pan
to sweep away

the shrunken man

restore the haze
to crisper days...

grey day passing.

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