This poem stands for a moment of urgency.

I can't deny being touched by the sentimental portion of this piece, but however exceptional it sounds, there's something grander to dig out of it.

'In' being prolonged by a fact, not (only) Poetry aesthetics, made this a grim registration of a period.

An insurmountable event for a delicate observer has a strong pandering for becoming absorbed and later on poured onto a means of art.

The affliction is bigger than your own, and even maligns sorrowed pleas as useless.

I needn't say anything else.

A moment in time. A poem on time.

Aye, this piece caught me interest having the need lately to kick out something sad and faded meself.

Fer indeed I am...

As is all forgotten light.

Beautiful verse, I have always found something oddly comforting within shadowed saddness.

See yer,

'Anna