I wish I hadn't put off poem-hunting here for so long...love this one!
Anilitas by Stephen Lloyd
When the looks
That they once gave you
Have long since
Disappeared.
When your face is showing
The distinct lines
Of the laughter
And the tears.
All you’ll have left
Are those stories to tell
On some lonely Saturday night.
An old woman
Sits in the backyard
Awaiting the coming
Of night.
Wise men whisper
Growing old is pain,
As they sit in front of their fire.
Your face shows
The distinct hope
Of avoiding
That funeral pyre.
All you’ll have left
Are those stories to tell
On some lonely Saturday night.
That old woman is you
In the backyard,
Awaiting the coming of night.
updated by @americymru: 11/24/19 06:16:51PM
