The tombstones stand out white
In the sun’s light.
I wonder, as I go
Whether those now below
Lived their days in light?
And, when I go
Will those who pass
Along this path
Pause, and sigh,
And think as I?
The slow
Tick tock
Of the inexorable clock
Says “all must go”
In the end,
Though some pretend
‘Tis not so”.
In youth we burn the candle
At both ends and pretend
That waning candlelight can somehow fight
The oncoming night. Then in age
Our wracking cough
Says all lights
Will go off
I find my scalp flaking.
Bits of dead skin escaping.
But they are not me
For I am sweet poetry.
Yet my little sun
Shall one day become
Just dust.
Today I turned 53.
Shall I make free
With women and wine?
Or stick to rhyme?
Old Father Time
Stands behind me.
The feminine and wine
Can not conquer time.
On hearing the bells chime
I think on time.
Although there is no
Clock in the church tower
To measure my brief hour.
If my clock antique
Could, somehow speak
What would it say?
Yet, it’s chime
Speaks of time
And my brief day.
In “Meet Me on the Equinox”, Death Cab for Cutie sing “everything, everything ends”. This is a beautiful track. I relate to the song as a lot of my own poetry touches on the brevity of life.
Young women’s feet
Kick autumn leaves.
Time deceives
Not. clocks
Do stop.
And once green leaves
Must turn to dust.
On my way home
I touched the stone
Of my local church.
And longed to stay
With the singing birds
On this summer evening.
I have oft heard
The birds singing
And regretted leaving.
I envy them
For, unlike men
They do not weep.
For they see not
The final sleep.
While I
Knowing that man must die
Have the beauty of birdsong,
Which does not last long
K Morris - Poet 