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.

2 comments:

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,

Jim