Old age is a journey
Into an unfamiliar country
On an alien planet.
Common sights, common sounds
Ring old bells in the mind.
Hills are steeper, gravity stronger
And the very substance of the body
Bonds more weakly
So that bone and muscle spalls.
The skin, a transparent membrane,
A map of blue roads inscribed on parchment.
Perceptions fragment and the idea of self
Shimmers in strong light
Like a cloud of dandelion seeds,
To dissipate and flee
Before the slightest breeze.
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Comments about this poem (Arrival by Jan Sand )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(31 March 1934 – 31 May 2009)
(January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
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