The ache is near before the start
each day etched upon new skin
do we linger in the mountain air
do we unsheathe our petaled fare
or do we shudder beneath our sin.
When breaths draw loosely
and fainted lid does despair
will we clothe ourselves in regret
or shall we leave without a care.
Time ticks, the endless heartbeat
and we have come undone
draw my veil gently across my face
for growing old has left its trace
and the rest of my days
I shall unweave what I have spun.
(c) Sumyanna 2017
Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: trace
Beautiful image courtesy of Pixabay.com