Sunday, October 06, 2013

The Mag 189

Photo credit crilleb50
The ticking-
the constant ever after ticking.
I sit for this
I sit for that
it weighs one the mind
it bends at the heart
of it all, I see no reason
I hear no rhyme.
I do not cherish this passage
of time-
after which I know nothing of.
The grass it grows
and flowers and blooms
and goes to seed-
My knees ache
all the while I ruminate;
then conjugate things
of despair-
things I remember
that brought me here-
those that were painful
and some that were dear.
this ticking continues
I suppose that is good-
it's all quite foggy now
like I knew would.  
Michael A. Wells


Kathe W. said...

oh my gosh- this resonates with me....I am getting older and it begins to make so much more sense

Helen said...

Great write, Michael!
At seventy-two, I'm feeling quite the genius ... she says with a huge ha ha ha!

Tess Kincaid said...

The fog edges in ever so gently...

Anonymous said...

This is wonderful it really suits the image and it called on my own similar feelings

hyperCRYPTICal said...

I know of this! My mind remains vibrant yet my body aches with the age of itself.
Anna :o]