The Poetry of Austin Grant



		      Hours Through The Looking-glass

		   From then to now, how short the road
		   The burdens of time, Soul's growing load;
		   The view from here, how strange of there,
		   Like Fantasy Isle, time running wild

		      AND THEN--

		      A flash of realization   
		      The image not wanted to see
		      With brief inspiration  
		      What nightmare past has come to be?

		   The dreams of youth, like an aging tooth
		   Lost in a smile, gone in awhile;
		   And seeing what, and knowing when,
		   A hopeless dream, what might have been

		      AND NOW--

		      A loss of concentration      
		      On shadows lost to me         
		      With teared resignation     
		      What dreams were then came not to be.

    

			
			        Austin Grant




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