Aging…

Aging in a Cage…

Crazy old fool moving back and forth, rockers on the chair worn, staring through tattered curtains; windows with bars.

Obscure old fool your seasons are gone; you have no more mountains to climb; hours, days months reliving the rags of time.

Once respected, mind strong, now all day you rock away; aging in an asylum cage declining senses, your fingers cannot hold a pin or brush.

The poems in the mind have no paper, no canvas for images of color, and within your own sphere you know longer care.

©2014.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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