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Jun 14
Time flies fast,
like a little bird,
swinging trough the sky,
never looking back.

Time is forever,
but never do you realise in time
that the present is not present anymore,
but is now past.

Time melts in my hands,
slipping trough my fingers,
only remaining the everlasting trace of memory,
staining every little crevice of my hands.

But memory,
memory remains,
persistently present in your mind,
always haunting every little image,
and every little thought.
This is a class assessment I really enjoyed, based on the painting The Persistence Of Memory by Salvador DalΓ­.
Written by
Aleka  16/F/Spain
(16/F/Spain)   
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