The day dawns, with scent of must and rain,
Of opened soil, dark trees, dry bedroom air.
Under the fading lamp, half dressed - my brain
Idling on some compulsive fantasy -
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Aging. The steady drip-drip-drip of deterioration in sage of skin and dulling of eyes. But we all, man or woman, continue to dress ourselves in our armor to face the day.
Verily poetic, in every stay, of depth and breadth! Nice poem, for sure! :)
This poem has such deep meaninigful pauses and switches of emphasis ans theme
Nature's manifestations during February have been nicely portrayed in this beautifully penned poem. Thanks for sharing.
Compulsive fantasy! With the ways of life. Thanks for sharing.
Yes. Time is telling. But I think the more time we gain is a bliss; for each age has its own pleasures. Getting old is natural and can be enjoyable where there is much time to think and wisdom to cherish. Deep thinking and far contemplation can make double of our pleasures of old ages. It is a nice poem with beautiful images.