Poetry: The days have passed
Forty-three years I have seen.
Many roads I have traveled;
Seeding goodness and weeding badness.
Forging ahead, and then lagging behind.
How quickly the seconds, minutes, hours and days have come.
I wonder where I spent it;
Infancy, childhood, or adulthood?
It's lost to the yester-years,
Caught between day and night.
They slumber in quiet repose?
Oh days, how dare you pass when I wasn't looking.
Gray hair creeps in and wrinkles leave their mark.
Skin dances upon my supple body, draping my arms like curtains.
Were I vain I'd cover the mirrors, but I'm a realist.
Soon I'll be in the eve of my years.
On a front porch, with weathered rocker, I'll cover many miles.
As memory fades and twilight rises,
I'll sleep the sleep of death.
Yes, the days will have passed.