A Writer’s Creeping Age
Age, like the flow of sin
upon skin, imparts its wrath,
and at some point unrecognised I am,
skin lined and less than smooth,
as if life did tattoo make,
each line etched in experience, deep,
no other than for time’s sake.
I relish not this affront,
this blink and miss the decades passed,
and suddenly confronted by,
this skin draped over aching bone
and sallow its tone be,
not rich and bronzed like later days,
but pale and wan as it is.
Sigh, a relenting of delusion,
facing the confusion of aged minds,
experience rich and wisdom kind, yet
that spring in the step, now a limp,
for all I sucked from that marrow,
and now life tells me to sit down and relax,
no more axes to grind, time maligned.
I hold onto mind, my last bastion,
and throw words like horseshoes,
hoping to hear that clink of a bull’s eye,
and know they mean something to someone,
as time abides no man,
yet man abides time with no reprieve,
in this my sentimental mind, taken leave.
I have not the energy for cranky,
as many old men do,
so I’ll ponder all that’s come and gone,
what I gained or did lose,
and words shall be my epitaph, as eloquent as I can,
so not to let my purpose fall,
without my own command.
Tony DeLorger © 2016
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It is good to be a master of words as age begins to grow on us. Well penned work Tony.
Thanks Phyllis, glad you related. Cheers!
Well done Tony. As always when it come to writers and poets their words will live on.
Thank you Rasma. Glad you appreciated my work. Take care.
Tony, there seem to be so many friends, acquaintances and celebrities passing in the last year especially. I suppose as you get older you notice this, as those you grew up watching, listening to etc all age as well. At least as a writer, actor, singer, painter etc. you live on through your work. We can always hope they discover a fountain of youth. Nice work.
Thanks John, yes there’s no fountain of youth I know about, but life does seem to wiz by. Take care.