A figure of Time

As if a malfunction occurred and thoughts that should have been sorted,
enter into a sea of trailing threads which my mind has absently aborted.


You forget past days as they slip by like sewing slipping thread,
each stitch you sew imprints the present,
while the rest unravel and fade.
You try to rememver week old faces,
but they all fade into the grey.
Memories never meant to blur,
shift like shedding tears and fade.