by Mike Day
Written for a comp. About the realisations that come with age.
|Poem for competition.
By Mike Day
If I’m honest, and I occasionally am,
I look back at the things I have done,
The sand that has run through my fingers,
And I feel my age.
The boy who raced his bike towards the future,
Or the Young man on a breathless date.
Both had known that their world would never end.
Unshakable, unthinking, it armoured them like steel.
They expected fairness, justice, victory.
Life was a foreign coin to be spent in a strange bizarre.
Enjoyed and damn tomorrow,
There was plenty more to spend.
I can see the bottom of the hour glass.
The world ends for someone every night.
Experience is no substitute for the armour of youth.
Damned tomorrow, there are few enough to spend.