Bewitched Poem by Brian Rihlmann

As our faces wrinkle,
and our hair turns grey,
the world's colors fade
to a similar shade.

The present dims,
the future darkens,
and we dwell longer
in the brightly remembered
days of youth,
more in airy dreams
than upon solid earth.

Bewitched and beguiled
by our perfect worlds
we become little fascists,
with age sharpened tongues
imposing our Eden
upon fools without eyes
for our magnificent vision.

Maybe things would be better
if nihilists ran this show, rather
than uncompromising believers
in the ideology du jour.

Let us admit we are beaten,
and incompetent.
Turn over the reigns
to the children.
Elect one president, even.
Let them do their worst.