We used to be
so young
so great
Where did it all
Go?
Father Time
grasped his shovel
And began the trenches
On our faces.
A new topography
became visible.
No longer a smooth plane
But a canyon
With rivers and valleys
And weathered mountain tops.
In each crevice is a word
A picture
A memory.
In the lines around your eyes
I see the joys youth brought.
The love
you had for her
gave you many years
of happiness.
But there are other lines-
the lines on your brow,
they suggest the sorrow
her death brought.
You fretted for so long.
I trace my withered finger tips
across the lines
on my own face.
I remember when he -
when he did the same.
So tenderly, so wistfully,
with so much love
I think I remember crying.
But then
the moon swallowed him
and I never saw him again.
Now, in our aged state
we clasp hands
facing the sun.
We forget the lines on our faces.
We forget the sorrows of the past.
And we wave a glad hand to Father Time.
Together, we bid the world farewell.
Honorable mention
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