seems in life’s late spring
fields of pimples went barren,
yet scars from picking remain.
now in life’s summer
crops out of nose, ears, grow free,
yet eyes weaken, bones slower.
what in life’s autumn
will I love? gray, fewer growths,
salves, pills, thwarting winter’s death?
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Very poignant. I particularly like the imagery of the field of barren pimples and the scars. Great image that holds in the mind well.
Post a Comment