Whirlpool
I gaze into a whirling pool
from atop a small grassy knoll.
It’s like looking into the past.
Its magnetic, impelling force
Draws from my mind sweet memories
while discerning the dark vortex.
Each drawn closer to the center
and one by one I remember
them; and one after the other
is captured in the swirling mass
and instantly fades out of mind.
I look up at the clear blue sky
And espy the coming future
And wait for what tomorrow brings.
poem by Albert Ahearn
Added by Poetry Lover
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