Saturday, September 03, 2016


We may all grow old but do we grow?
Whether we loved or fought or wondered
The world is closing in on our adventure
We have thickening moss on our ancient bones
Young hawks may sweep down upon us
But we are not yet their prey for the taking
In slower footsteps of a resigned enquiry perhaps
We can still tread soft and firm upon earth
On enlightened paths where conclusion waits
But how hard is it now to stay off the grass
And walk carefree among flowers once again
Now that we realise how sweet they smell