Old Age

________________________________________________ Tomorrow is a birthday of the gravest consequence... Proclivity denied in me the ancient, awful truth but I now see quite clearly from the Crone's side of the fence, the aperture slam shut upon the saga of my youth I feel the marrow turn to dust inside each drying bone, all nuance of fertility drains from my barren womb I pray that in my final hours, I won't be left alone to hear the bells a-tolling, as now, I'm aware for whom! I'm bound to be quite feeble, if I make it past the day Please, look in on me often to attest that I am fine It's with temerity, though, that I hold on, anyway, with luck, perhaps I'll see the ripe old age of twenty-nine... ________________________________________________ 10/29/2018