Pages Menu
TwitterRss
Categories Menu

Posted by on Jul 9, 2008

Dreaming of getting old

My best design
fumbled,
was a distant dusk
drops of summer rain,
porches, endless
rocking chairs
lazily keeping beat
with the arrhythmic tide.

Someone else’s dream.

When did I start listening to all of that?
My age, our aging will be our own
and we will hurtle ourselves
with relatively reckless, calculated abandon
towards an endless journey, a leg, a stage,
a flight, an itinerary.

A reach from your hand across the aisle
and I am calm, drifting gently in our enormous
winged boat across the endless speckled ocean
at 36, 000 feet.

Share : Share on TwitterShare on LinkedinShare on GooglePlusShare on PinterestShare on Facebook

Post a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.