Zegar tyka w głowie,
wirują barwne obrazy.
Chaos własnych myśli
burzy harmonię duszy.

Krzyż miga przed oczyma
- szara plama na ścianie.
Umyka cel świętości
na zakrętach życia.

Serce rwie się do lotu,
a czas pędzi nieubłaganie.
Spadają zasuszone owoce
o smaku ubiegłego lata.

Nad rzeką wspomnień
umykają złote cienie.
Pędzi wiatr czasu,
porywając zeschłe liście.

Szumi w uszach melodia
o życiu nieprzeżytym,
przenika zwiędłe ciało
zamykając przeszłość.

(*) (*) (*)

ciocia Ś. P Patryka Janickiego

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______$$$$$ ´PAMIĘTAM(*)(*)(*)

Horacy
Non omnis moriar.
Nie wszystek umrę.
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