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Saturday, November 2, 2013

The Click of a Lock


The spots on my skin
begin to form
as feet ache
and grow numb
My joints aren't in their twenties
will there be anymore
as my father used to say
old age is not for sissies
but I am a sissy
at least to that generation
and perhaps
a few here and now

My eyes must have
their reading lenses installed
pulled from their black case
whenever I can't see
the wrinkles on my hands
to remind me once again
that anymore
is this day
with it's sun
as it creates trapezoids
on the green carpet

While winter approaches
I listen to music
only I hear
as it passes through my heart
my empty heart
that ages with each
empty day
as I wait
for the only moment
that will complete it
the sudden note
of the lock on the door
through which I can't return

Copyright © 2013 by Barry G. Wick

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