Eternity smothers this one day.
This day devours every hour.
I taste each minute along my way;
still, eternity smothers this one day.
Of the beauties that bloom today,
I savor the lowest flower.
Though eternity smothers this one day,
today I devour, every hour.
I Could Be Wrong 
2 replies on “Triolet”
What kind of poem (form?) is this? It’s fantastic…
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Cool. The triolet is French and I can’t remember where it came from before that. 8 lines, 2 rhymes, and refrains. I haven’t mastered it, but it’s fun to play with! Glad you think so, too.
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