The Ravages Of Time Poem by Sheena Blackhall
The Ravages Of Time
I have become a footnote, an aside in a margin
An anachronism, an irrelevance, an outer planet
I witter, drooling words
Like a baby dribbles pee into a nappy
All part of the ravages of age,
Collateral damage of advancing years
‘Talk to me, ' says the page.
‘When have I not listened? '
And once again I commune with my oldest friend
It never judges, is always available
The one true certainty in a creaky compass
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/27/2024 12:12:20 PM # 1.0.0.1119
