Growing Old

I might occasionally say I'm getting old
But there is a place inside
Vague, indefinable that denies it
Secure in being forever young
Despite the outward signs

A place where dreams of flying
And the sound of children's laughter
Are goosebump heightened with delight
At the flickering of a butterfly's wings

And occasionally I have to remind myself
That this or that one is younger than I
Despite the grey pall of their countenance
Despite the cataracts dimming their vision
Despite the arteries clogged with hate
And the loud and violent coughing up
Of rank and vitriolic phlegm

Perhaps they will return someday to sunlight
Splashed with summer water hose
And arms round shoulders giggling
In the long warm afternoon

Becoming young again
And younger still
Growing child-like
Growing old

(C) Steve Kelly 2012

 


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