Webs and waves of time

My past is a sweet glass of wine
Subject of many evenings
Of reminiscence, of musing
And after the first wave
My past is a spider
Entangling me in its web
In its metaphors I see
that I have to clean
The dust off my past
Or its web will not let me move
To see the light of the future
In literary musing I forget
That I am literally caught
In the webs and waves of time
Time in its multiple avenues
Time, the alien I never comprehended

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