At 64
April 29, 2017 Leave a comment
At 64,
The pages no longer turn at will,
The knees no longer salute,
The mind carries on
As if yesterday mattered,
As if tomorrow began anew.
At 64,
Worries takeover
As tomorrow encroaches;
Surmise sets
On what tomorrow will be.
At 64,
The sunrise still finds its setting,
After today sings its songs;
Tomorrow’s edge of existence
Creeps in to cut another day into cliché.
© Jennifer A. Johnson, 2017, All Rights Reserved