I am running
into realization

of meat walking
in high style

calories of alcohol
uncounted

guilts singing
in paint jobs

I am singing
into realization

this song
this song of

fraying threads
abandoned tomorrow

carefree days
are piling up

waiting for our
insistence

to fade


Copyright@2019  Dennis Willis

If we were young men,
  if we were strong

If we had fresh words,
  to add to our song

If we were soldiers,
  with war in our veins

If we were poets,
  our voices reclaimed

If we were lovers,
  of women that cried

If we went wandering,
  our heart’s reapplied

If we were statesmen,
  the world in our grasp

If we were sailors,
  the wind at our backs

If we were farmers,
  with meadows so green

If we were actors,
  on stages supreme

If we were hunters,
  new wolf on the prowl

If we were dreamers,
  all wishes allowed

If we were young men,
  still facing the sun

But alas, we are old
  —and darkness has come

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)