Age Poem by Phil Mason

Hazy memories of a life and loves that never
Happened.

Days drift silently to night
Nights to days
A quiet haze of obscure and fuzzy memories that go nowhere.

That visitors stop by to render confirmation of
Your existence is evidence that you don't know who you are.
Friendship to unknowns, courtesy's to a mystery.

In age there is the silence of time
Broken by an affirmation of presence
But what does any of it really mean?

Do any of us truly exist, or are we figments of our
Own Imagination.