1.
they say I don’t look my age
they say I seem spry for my age
shall I be grateful for their kindness
while hidden under my skin
the bone on bone
stripped of any comfort cushion
screams don’t don’t move
with every step
2.
the road goes only one way
3.
the space between me
and the final breath
shrinks by millimeters
and the passage of time
reports its progress
on anniversaries
while all the comfort cushions
of youth
are blown away
the voices of aspen leaves
shivering their autumn song
over the valleys
© Vilma Ginzberg, 04-23-2021