Monday, May 24, 2010

Long Term Care

I am more anxious ev'ry single day,
As I get older rain keeps falling down
And turns to mud the path that was my way;
With ev'ry step I slip, losing ground.

I thought I'd feel calmer after sixty,
But it is not so, fears only increase;
Everything seems tentative and iffy,
The only certainty the great decease.

But even that hovers in the future,
A wished for sunset on an endless beach,
A fantasy of elegant closure,
A fine farewell that lies beyond my reach.

It isn't fear of dying that disturbs my sleep,
It's that the Grim Reaper will take me piece by piece.


Dan Gurney said...

Wow! That's an elegant sonnet! I am impressed. In a better world, you'd be famous for your poetic talents.

Jim714 said...

Those are very kind words.

Thank you,