Do you ever look over your shoulder
at golden yesterdays
filled with acid regret?
I once took the nickel tour
walked familiar paths
but as a ghost of yesterday,
an inkling of the future;
nobody knew my name.
I glanced at myself,
hurrying past, busy to the next hoop,
through the long ground glass,
perched on a dizzying high rail,
and the view was magnificent.

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Poetry, photos, musing

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