Yesterday Is Past

Yesterday’s a deserted puddle
The water is all dried up.
The memories are savoring,
But it is a barren cup.

And like an empty glass,
There is nothing there to drink;
Naught to nourish life.
No substance, but dry ink.

‘Tis like the deaf'ning silence
Of a pleasant-sounding fife.
Yesterday is shifting sand…
The slow dissolving of life.

© 2015 Walterrean Salley