This is a random poem that I wrote in 2010 during a magnetic poetry event. Trite, and slightly weird, but that seems to be my poetic style. I do like having a record of stuff that comes out of my brain, though.
Every morning she remembers less of the universe.
A prisoner of the future, as she lingers there,
The present is a poison that haunts her.
She will not lie nor wake to joy.
There is but work and time.
Eternity is no less vast, but
She must trust to its embrace.