I wrote this poem during my mid-life "crisis" (at age 44) which thankfully I real-eyesed meant it was time to regroup and plan out my next 44. I didn't want to dwell too long on the "fact" my youth had left...well...did dwell there just a bit (LOL).
First Harvest
8-28-99
A garden planted in the spring of life
with rarely a distant goal in mind
fickle whims unleashed desires
seeds of caution are thrown to the wind
Summer summons a distant thought
forgotten in sun worship of sensual dance
a vegetative whirl digging deep
in mortal grasp of a guiltless age
Falling leaves reveal the glut of sun
or was it rain?
wrinkles show the truth, excessive gain
that reaps bitter fruit the taste of shame
choice's absolved now felt in withered pain
Winters cold wind blows the song of Eden lost
across the garden plain now ravished by time
seeds of memories leave seasoned wisdom
hungry to plow again. |
First 