I sit on my front porch, pondering over this for a while; watching life go by around me, but not including me.
As my life comes to a close, I think on all I have not done.
The spaces my walls hold no frames
My trees bear no fruit
My books tell no stories
This is no doubt untrue; many a word resides in my umpteen tales, yet how many more minds may I have filled if only a reckless boy quit his shelter of a self-defined rational man?
YOU ARE READING
Time and Tarriance
PoetryAn old mans overdue observations of the injustice of time and growing older. Rather the anger, he observes and ponders, creating marvellous and philosophical amphigory. The old man is a fictional character I have used to express my feelings and tho...
