I am puzzled by a spring like winter,
Confused trees and flowers trying to bloom.
Life is not a stroller but a sprinter,
Just arrived now we have to leave the room.
My hair and skin have to remind me,
That we can’t achieve the prizes of youth.
Sex and success are now far behind me,
Diplomats may call me “long in the tooth.”
But looking back wastes our few precious days.
We must concentrate on finding small joys.
Nothing we can do about Nature’s ways.
Grandma has to stop looking at the boys.
I do accept that my best days have passed,
Does time have to keep flying so damned fast?
as usual- the classicism enhances the wit
ReplyDeletegreen peace and others are working on global warming- some people actually deny it- right wingers
Thank you. This has been the weirdest winter, though we might get a few flakes tonight. Thank you for appreciating what I am doing with the sonnets. We will review each one before publication as my lines are sometimes clumsy.
DeleteYes..where does it go! Wonderful share that leaves me pondering that very question!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Natasha! I'm 62 and got old early thanks to MS. Can't think about regrets but time running out for new joys!
Deletewonderful and quality written to the depth of adversity and sorrow that asks, what is time in the bigger frame of existance, from birth to eternity, wonderful work! I enjoy it alot.
ReplyDelete-Michael
Thank you, Michael. I see so many postings on Facebook where people demand that feeling young is the only answer, but you only get one chance to be the age you are and I want to experience it.
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