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Years Ago
January 19, 2016
Eudemonic now, experience weaves
Itself into tapestries, edges fraying with time.
Unravelling, unfurling, the delicate buds of springtime
In gentle discord withering, but naught perceives
How their soft nodding grows weary;
Such sacrifice amongst all, self lost
To the whole, threads bound and crossed –
So hastily knotted – eyes raw, fingers bleary.
© George L., Barrigada, Guam
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Yeats Octave - an eight line verse that was used prolifically by William Butler Yeats. The rhyme scheme is abbacddc.