End of the Day. A Poem on Getting Old
Allow yourself to dangle over the edge of time. Dark creeps in between cracks fading anthem heavy curtains such a sparse view have I passed over what appeared before?
Nowhere to see nowhere to hide as dark seeps through windows, keyholes cover objects with its black coat then nothing to see Persistence cycles signature of silence last breath to inhale while others walk on to say hello to our shared destiny. Light fades softly you have no right. to resist this unannounced guest I make slow moves handheld banister night creeps up behind footsteps to mark day’s end. The dark tiptoes up the stairs like a long-lost friend guides me to the realm of the fall of tired eyelids. Oh the wonder of impending formless - shadows can hide myself from ageing frail form and slow limbs homage to tranquil hours all wrapped up quiet descends on me. Dark creeps under the bed cover on wintry night duvet pulled up could this be the last time? for the Beyond to share its finality. It is all so clear not of light of day not of the darkness not revealed not hidden the end of the day know no beginning nor knows ending. That’s amazing.
Wow.. Christopher… touched me… we are both 81…..