My yesterdays are strung together like a bundle of
supermarket ads.
This unstoppable time
torments me.
Where have my years gone;
I see them in the wrinkles the mirror throws
back at me.
In the lusterless hair strands
The loose skin.
Is that all, I wonder.
What else, rustles the wind,
what else
Inevitable, but our art transcends the passage of time. That said, having just turned 60 this has been on my mind a lot of late. 60 is SO not what I thought of 60 when I was 40 years away from it. So much more lively, adventurous, and full of love than I could have imagined then.
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