Fragile, Fragile, Fragile

a poem by Rani Turton, France

Fragile, Fragile, Fragile

Each time I walk alone
In shadowed paths , in old paved lanes
Amongst stones or garden bowers.

Like my shadow I feel
Fragile, fragile, fragile.

My mind is my own but who knows
How long it will remain pulsing,
Vibrant as a river? Who knows?

For now the instant is precious.
But each time I walk alone
In foreign lands, on lonely paths
I feel, I feel, like a transient being
Being without being, seeming without seeming;
Fragile, fragile, fragile.

I saw somebody today who speaks of the past.
I saw the manner things don’t last.
People go, places change, and then
An moment becomes a crossroads when
The decision changes your life,
Things that seemed so strong and eternal
Become fragile,so fragile, so fragile.

Copyright: Rani Turton

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