a cave that whispers back all the

memories, footprints, skin grazing skin

until there is a tiny blood forming

on this needle like hole, so many decades

flash by and Sharon sighs as she sees the gloomy

face of the knight, who was once so very spirited in his beliefs!

ah yes, life can do that to anyone,

for the edges, the edges are where no one peers

long forgotten places and the fat plum is tasty on everyone’s mouth,

how tender the flesh, till the juice pours down sweaty chins

and the cries of children are layering all over the adult face,

of yesterday gone.