As the skin withers and tatters,
Like a favorite old book
Tis true, on the street
Men no longer steal a look…
But if the eye could see
Deeper
Than the crevices of time,
Lasting beauty’s song
rings sweet with truth,
More perfect
Than a rhyme.
Tag Archives: Poems of aging
Photograph
Tattered from age,
edges browned
Chocolate or blood?
A single oily imprint of my finger remains,
35 years have gone by;
And I hold it in my hand
once white edges, shiny smooth, square
A day in this life, a regular day now-special
I hold my dog, Hildegaard in one arm
I read from my second grade work book in the other
My long pale blue jeans a yellow shirt, long, long hair
the pictures tells…..it is set in the seventies,
As is as apparent by the chair I sit on……
Without this single photograph,
This day may have been forgotten
Like the others.
Pain’s hidden beauty
My wrists swell, like the lids of my eyes
After a hard, repressed cry surfaces;
Tears find their way out,
as naturally as a snakes skin, they must be shed,
for fear the heart will become saturated,
or the salty droplets will extinguish
the embers that warm the insides,
Why though- does my flesh expand,
Heavy, puffed as if I’m padded to be tackled,
to prepare my innards from outward attack?
When the insides put up a fight of its own
It’s like the shadow of my 20’s self,
It’s emphatic, on guard, fluffed and cooing;
pomped feathers to protect my bones
For fear life will chip away at them.
I never thought I’d see the day
I felt more brittle
like a shelf of once adored miniature figurines
Layers of dust, blanketing their charm,
Perhaps I should write a letter to my first love
And thank him again?
