Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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Life’s perishable hours bound
in leather, gilded letters stamp
hand sown binding, title of
connected thought, collected
memory, gold numbers years
archived here, days beneath
almond leaves, men talking
as the sea seethed, a breeze
gently moved each leaf.
We turned a page, all revolved
constellations charted
the heavens, what had been
seen, no more was saw
in Southern climes, new stars
crossed the sky, love talked
yearningly of home, distance
alone, made bitterer good byes.

© Jan G. Otterstrom F. September 16, 2014