Tuesday, 17 September 2013

[Poem] : Age

                                                     

Stop right there,
Right at the door,
Right in your tracks,
Stay yet, your feverish hands

I dread the aching bones
The faltering step,
The halting breath,
The falling teeth,
The memory loss,
Being the hospital’s dross.

Most of all I dread
A wrinkling face,
The sinking eye,
A shriveling skin,
A timorous voice.

But age draws near…
His fangs eager…
Oh! The savage plundering rampage,
The cruel ravage of my vestigial youth
Drawn out to the last embers…
Sacrilege!

No comments:

Post a Comment