Like an atumn leaf surrenders to the fall,
Its detachment from it all,
I see myself approach the unseen wall,
That separates day from nightfall.
My melancholy joy resists,
Thoughts in clusters that exist,
To prove that life is but a mist,
A speck of time that swiftly twists.
If that's the case then all the more,
To see and feel and explore,
What life's adventures have in store,
Before the wind takes me ashore.
"You think you're never going to get old? Just you wait," she'd threaten knowing that I couldn't stop the days from accumulating. My grandmother was right and like her I now groan much too much, my bones creak, I can't stay up too late and I have joined the ranks of the wimps who can't drink coffee after a certain hour, lest it disturb their sleep. But that's all about the physical and some insist that it's the heart and mind that count.
If that's true, I am young and I intend to enjoy this youth, to explore, to learn and to write and let my spirit soar. Simple goals for a simple soul as she takes the flight of the autumn leaf.
(Thanks so much to those who encouraged that I try writing a poem. It was fun and something new to do in the autumn of my days.)