[art] poetry: of time as you get older

it's not long before you lose your step
you wake up and your m ssing something
you can't see the label that they printed on the mayonnaise
and you haven't played soccer in six years

why does the world spin relentlessly without my approval?
I presume some sort of control,
or at least I used to.
a close friend speaks jokingly
of life before the weight of the world crushed our shoulders
but how funny is a joke
that sounds just like the truth

I've created more lists than I know what to do with
and I've cleaned the house
but I haven't written the great American novel
or traveled to Italy
my merits are low
my bill are high
and the sun still determines,
without my contribution,
when it will set

there is a bit of comfort in this
but I'm not sure
that it is enough

I'll continue
to journey. with brightness.
some from the sun
the rest from above, within

1 comment:

  1. Yay, Ben poetry!

    I like this and empathize with it.