The passage of the years
constrains possibility;
calendars squeeze life.
Now I know there are
poems I won't read again;
books I won't open again;
places I'll not visit again;
people I won't see again;
lips I'll never kiss again.
Age narrows time.
Approaching sixty,
everywhere around me,
the sound of closing doors.
- mce
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment