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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2200062
Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2200062
An old man staring into a fire from his rocking chair, travelling through time.
It is the winter of my life
sitting in my rocking chair
Sipping tea and memories
into the flames I stare
Lost sometimes is where you'll find me
only present for short conversations
My old bones often creak now
when I stand from long contemplations

Casting myself to time's long gone
to faces with names I've forgotten
Lovers and winners
Losers and sinners
now dank, musty and rotten

Their stones placed on gravesites
as if those beneath really cared
Names of people for years passed on
whose lives I so briefly shared
Life is a gift given maliciously
for someday death steals that pearl
Will I see you all again my friends
there at the end of the world?


G. Gabriel


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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2200062