The sting of eternity
lies in the dusty drawers of
another year gone.
Subtracting all the blazing balls
that fall into the cold blue sea, marking
the sting of eternity.
Harried housewives hurry
scraping their zest into a bowl,
another year gone.
They leave behind the dried rind
of months and days,
the sting of eternity.
Some spurn life’s yeast, fail
to rise; bake flat and hollow;
another year gone.
The Cat’s in the Cradle
singing to the ignorant about
the sting of eternity;
another year gone.
Written using the word’s in this week’s wordle.