Tranquilly beset by antique proverbs inadvertently mixed
and mesmerized with age.
Hollowly filled with anguish during trying times of death.
Bent with sorrow, creeping slowly, overtaking the rest of
life.
Carefully worn antecedents gather close together, retracing
history of the past, sighing loudly at inopportune moments
filling the air with echoes of lost cries.
RoseAnn V. Shawiak
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/antique-sorrow/
