Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

in memory

growing into years
they stack up, pages and pages
of months and years and seasons
your bones may turn to
copper and rust, skin to dust
but the hearts you touch
in the end, will remember you
as all that is gold, all the
pages and pages of all
of your stories will be
remembered and retold

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: patina

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