Poems – Cement.

I saw a picture this morning of an actor placing his hands in wet cement outside of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. The photo was 20 years old, but to the actor, I’m sure it was a pinnacle moment of his career. That moment has long since passed, but the memory of it is sealed in time.


Every day is wet cement. Some of what we do will drift away on the wind. Other things, achievements or memories, good or bad, will be locked and sealed in our own little personal histories.


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