Old Age (or, Bad Doggerel, Sit)

Dreams in black and white,
shadows and light,
like sound and silence
with nothing between.

Love comes,
love goes,
the center won’t hold
and the ends never meet.

Life caught
in sixteen frames
each second,
separated by space and time.

Life flows into stiffness,
stillness hardens the line,
What was once a blur
ends in permanence, stops.

Begin and end, each ray
sent on time’s trust,
to see the new day
blur into shadow and dusk.

What does it mean,
what does it say,
pinks and yellows preen
into blues and greens?

Life measured in periodic beats
as if hearts were clocks
swinging their pendulums to keep
the blood of time in neat blocks.

Yet irregular is the mind
and refuses to sway
in so regular a time,
it bids time, “stay”.

Like a siren’s song
blinding the ears
but fearing the gong,
it is time it fears.


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