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By Nell James

All the images that seem to appear
Golden years gone, they bring me some fear
All the stages we pass through our age
Fiction on a stage

Greetings from days you’ve left behind
Hope you are well, what is on your mind?
Have any changes taken place
‘Sides the pictures of your face?

Carry onwards, there’s nothing to do
But live out, go on to something new
Carry history of you and me
Be what we will be

I’m a stranger in my eyes

All the makings of what we are
The places we’ve been, the blink of a star
All the images that seem to appear
They’re not truly clear

I didn’t choose to birth to here
In these lives, in this sphere
Yet everything seems to be right
As well as anything might

They’re strangers in my eyes
Feels so strange sometimes

© 2006 Nell James