IN MY NINETIETH YEAR, a poem

 

The vampire of old age

drains life from my legs,

weakens my eyes,

sucks away my energy

A certain escape:

The doorway to death

lying inevitably just

a day or a decade away

 

END of MY TRAIL, a poem

 

Worn and so exhausted,

yet still stumbling onward,

near the end of the trail

of a very long life

 

Through the many years

the journey was fueled

by curiosity and pleasure,

with a strong, energetic body

and no all-consuming heartaches

 

Sweet memories endure

despite the flawed body

whose certain destiny

is sickness and then death,

perhaps an afterlife

 

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