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  • Writer's pictureVilma Ginzberg

This part of the journey


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


the road goes only one way


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

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