Aging
This spring is dry
It’s cold on a summers day
The leaves are still
Although they are not here to stay,
Humanity dipped in grey dye
No streaks on this head of mine
No rainbow, dull rays
Lost brilliance
Weathered and wrinkled
Raisins and prunes
Life of the lived
Life of the used
Like the old oak tree
I bend, I am weak
You creek says the cedar floors
But you’ll have to wait.
Make no mistake
Alive but not free,
I hear too much in this silence
I can see nothing
But I smell the end,
The only sweet
Because the birds no longer sing,
Young hope has left me
Life is no longer a friend.
This poem is about:
Our world