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Old Age How is it that the sun hides? The sky’s gray haze makes a death mask out of the earth. Winter winds wail and I long to see the sun again. I long for the scent of new growth and the earth’s warmth between my toes. This year, I think, it will be a long time ‘til spring. And in the summer the little old ladies will complain about the heat while the weatherman announces another record high. I wouldn’t care if it was hot outside. I demand the life the sun’s heat brings. I will not settle for a hidden sun, a sun that lights but does not warm. (My anger at the universe wells up in my throat so that I cannot speak.) Oh God, expunge this demon from my life! Is it too much to ask for a little pity? Give me the strength to last out just one more winter and I promise… . |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Jordan Brendez Bandojo On Date: 2004-07-06 05:14:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.80000
Hi Edwin,
I missed reading and critiquing but I have been very busy these days.
Thanks for the nice read.
Jordan