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Jan 2013
Old
Feared friend of mine, why do you knock upon my door

Is it not enough that years escape me, memories are weak?

Shadows under my eyes caress my cheeks with darkness

Lines appear to form maps of my life, creases of time

Grey is my new colour, thin becomes my skeletal frame

Arched over is my posture, slow long shuffles are my steps

Feared friend of mine, why do you knock upon my door
Scott Salter
Written by
Scott Salter  UK England
(UK England)   
511
   Timothy and Hilda
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