Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Eras Passing





















All the grand old ladies
From the Tall Clipper ship era;
Survivors of the "Great quake",
Dead before my Buick Rivera.

All my favorite teachers,
Were dead when I became one.
It seems the decades pass
Between one moon and the next sun.

All my favorite singers,
Have long since lost their voices.
Some victims of planes, drugs, or old age…
It seems none had any choices.

All of the politicians,
I first voted for are dead.
Just like the dreams they promised,
Are no longer in my head.

All my newest friends,
I met when middle aged,
Are dead or dying now.
Time did not retreat, but raged.

All my last surviving friends,
Now fearfully shy away,
It seems since we’re all dying,
We should have so much to say.

All my thoughts are fading,
My mind’s foggy, in a daze.
Why can’t we discuss our feelings?
Celebrate our December days?



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