Hours by Hazel Hall

I have known hours built like cities,

House on grey house, with streets between

That lead to straggling roads and trail off,

Forgotten in a field of green;

Hours made like mountains lifting

White crests out of the fog and rain,

And woven of forbidden music—

Hours eternal in their pain.

Life is a tapestry of hours

Forever mellowing in tone,

Where all things blend, even the longing

For hours I have never known.

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