dry and brittle As the pages of life turn dry and brittle, I wonder how so much or how so little. How’ve the days just passed me by? What about what I did and didn’t try? How I’ve lived and how I’ve died, truths I’ve lived and lies I’ve lied. How’ve the days all slipped away? What about lost nights and days? Loves I’ve loved and loves I’ve lost, heads or tales, the coins I’ve tossed. How’ve the days of loving ceased? What about the loves released? Roads I’ve traveled near or far, wishes forgotten, upon a star. How’ve the dreams all gone astray? What about the long, forgotten way? © 2013 ajwrites57 A Long Image by: By Fredericks at it.wikipedia, CC-BY-SA-3.0 from Wikimedia Commons If you enjoyed this poem, find more here.
"Always be a poet, even in prose." ~ Charles Baudelaire