This week’s poem, having time to think, I’m afraid I thought a little too much about time.
Aging
For that odd door of Alice’s
behind which rabbits run on unmowed grass
in unpredictably slipping time,
I keep searching.
Unexpected keys in words, names, smells
bring it nearer, clearer, but then after all –
nothing, just a shifting shadow,
an unexpected stirring.
Choice, direction, opportunity open
but which unlocked gate to choose
when none are that elusive shrinking door
I’m searching for.
Suppress panic imagining trees growing taller,
time speeding mercilessly
as I get bigger and older,
and realize perhaps I gave up long ago.
No way I could make it through
any how.
Dhaka 2015
Magnificent site. Lots of helpful information here.
I’m sending it to some pals ans also sharing
in delicious. And of course, thanks to your sweat!
But live every age in full, without fear, it all gives you experiense and wisdom , and anyway, there is no fixed date on old ages.
This is one of those poems, you have to read several times, because it really makes you think, but it is also poetic and beautifull.
I like that a lot. Like grasping for a wave on the sand. 🙂