Run, old man, the winter comes
Ice and snow impede,
Run, old man, impending cold
Will spur you on to speed.
Run, you fool, on brittle ice
For shattered shins to shard,
Run, old man, in howling gale
As pelting sleet hits hard.
Collect thyself O ancient one
Thy lungs have shred to bleed
Run, old man, on memories
Thy legs have turned to seed.
Remember then, in times of yore,
When muscled limbs would stride?
Alas, old man, your day is done
For physicality, died.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ

Robin, butterfly, chaffinch calls
wisteria climbs on ancient walls,
magnolia, daffodil, snowdrop scramble
carrion crows parade and amble,
in the garden near the maze
early spring brings warmer days

And she fell,
into ice-cold water.
Her legs kicked,
gasping for air
that once suffocated her.

She didn't scream,
reached her hand out,
not for light, but to bid goodbye.

She looked around,
to realize the dark
she had walked into.

Fate laughed,
as she closed her eyes.
Oh, what an irony,
she couldn't swim.

For the last in life
Born in waiting lines
Standing in lines
Dying in lines

A song began from love
Soundtrack of the forgotten
No time to see
No time to stand still

Life is stress
The clocks called us yesterday
Today phones are screaming
Rush as a code

Their minds heavy with lead
Their eyelids weighed down
And children roam the land
Hating their fathers

So generations die
To become secrets
For the last in life
Born in waiting lines