#498. broken vase with flower

December 8, 2011

coming on 
age doesnt visit
it jumps upon me erupting
skin cracking dreams interrupting me
breath tickling heart hard to hard to see 
sprouting white nose hairs plucking them out
vanity keeps hoping for surfaces to keep me safe
from my thoughts of that frightened ancient child me
still life moves

One Response to “#498. broken vase with flower”

  1. slpmartin said

    Ah…I still recall the first time a young student called me “Sir”…oh my I thought I’m getting old….enjoyed you poem.

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