` <br /> <br /> <br />revolutions of the second hand <br />are innumerable to the watchful eye, <br />which has not comforted this bruising <br /> <br />...shame <br /> <br />nor can heart's run far enough away <br />from pulsing, cancerous gangrene; <br />and off to the darkest mile it treads <br /> <br />...softly <br /> <br />in the cooling of a fading day, <br />a gentle crushing blow fixes completely <br />the drowning, despondent smiles <br /> <br />...of yesterday <br /> <br />as wafting wavelets wail forlornly, <br />while whispering affections now silent; <br />hearkening back to more innocent times <br /> <br />...found wanting <br /> <br /> <br />`<br /><br />Frederick Kesner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-thoughts-meander/
