[Poetry], The Timid Leaper  Comments Off on Strokes
Aug 312011

Clear-headed time at a touch
Shows all too much.

The resentful body grows old;
Youth and strength have gone
Disgraced from the stage.
Vague as a notion,
The room swims into view;
Dawn stutters into motion.

Time has done to you
Things time shouldn't do.

An old man stares out
From an oval steel mirror,
Your face in one clout
The face of a stranger:
Cataract-eyed, his blind
Grip gone round a razor.