clcouch123

The Wonder Years

 

Old age

Is for someone else, isn’t it?

I write as if I’m twenty

And I’m not

But still it seems an artifact

Something on display

To view someday when there’s time

I think it’s a problem

When the inside and outside

Cannot balance

Like bank pages,

Come to an understanding

A negotiation between parts as

Parties even though the

Disagreements tend toward

Being mild—

Nothing we want to overthrow

 

Unless divergence has become

A wider thing, a view too far

To see into with any

Clarity or source for contemplation

That is helpful

I’ve been there, so have you:

Off the road next to the

Telescope behind a low stone wall

Feeling air from down below

But discomfited because

It’s all impressive

But it’s new

Nothing to rely on

 

Old age is an eventual visitation

And a visit from which

We can’t walk away

It is inevitable

As it is phenomenal

It is, sadly, not enviable

Even for the lack of youthful

Problems

Elders are respected

Elsewhere where there are circles

We all need protractors

 

We will be that person

In the parking lot who wonders

Whose face it is

We see inside the window

And that will have to be all right

I wish we were so much

Better at it

Since there are stories

Wise, profane, honest, and

Incorrigible

We should seek them out, while

We can

Record them with technology

We understand

 

It is a comfort

And a fear

We of every age

Should deal in both

I’m sorry being forward

But my time’s finite, too

 

C L Couch