You’re paranoid when
you use turn signals to turn
in your own driveway.
Not Berry Funny
You know you’re aging
When you imagine Aunt Bea
with long flowing hair.
by a long walk in the woods,
one foot at a time.
Autumnal sunsets, nothing new
Clouds ablaze and sky deep blue
Second looks, few hold dear
There’s other thoughts this time of year
Weather’s changing and holidays soon
The race for home before the moon
There hunger’s fed and a cozy bed
Then rise with the sun, its path we’re led
Orange and yellow now out of reach
Pinks and purples fade to peach
Lilac hues whither to gray
Stars above end the day
My little town is changing,
the old folks are moving away.
Little kids are moving back,
now there’s screaming every day.
The houses too are changing,
paint jobs have gone awry.
Gone the regard for history,
the zip code is now the why.
Perhaps I too am changing,
my future being soon elsewhere.
While life forever changes,
what remains was always there.
Another year’s gone by too fast.
But the birthday stress now has past.
I had too much cake and coffee too,
had a party and stepped in poo.
Perhaps an omen or maybe not,
or a reminder of things forgot.
Crappy stuff happens every day.
And we often slip along the way.
Yesterday being our only prep,
surprises await with every step.
Life can stink as we all know,
but sometime wrapped with a bow.
My shoes now scraped, no damage done.
My time ahead I’ll wish for fun.
I won’t let aging make me sad,
the alternative being really bad.
Dutifully wound when I rise each and every day.
Staring at my watch I see the time’s ticking away.
The band now snugger as the weight begins to rise.
Its numbers memorized unseen through aging eyes.
Wear’s now apparent, shimmer gone from its case.
Distress now etched forever on a once smooth face.
Hours once familiar now simply shades of grays.
Precision now is lacking in this twilight phase.
With each wind a moment gone, a moment less to see,
this time we spend on time are moments not to be.
I know the day’s coming when the spring loses its twist.
But til then, I’m sure, today lives upon my wrist.
In this instant our day’s to start.
The sun rises with imagination’s art.
Canvases unfurl forever changing.
Changes unfurl with minds raging.
Heads spin to lust and learn.
And the ageless age with every turn.
It’s time itself telling time.
By degree our world’s a chime.
A brushes stroke and all’s made right.
Then our sun will rise on another’s night.