|
when i do
by Charlie Morgantoday's fitting costume is that of a wrinkled,
retired school teacher, known by the bedraggled
look of having never been heard, or listened-to;
handsome arrives on a minute-train and stays not;
soon overtaken by wrinkles of doubt of self-wortth.
a saltz bath in common-ness allows for sustenation.
while life's split infinitives leave me dangling, limp;
champions of life are at my feet hoping for an audience,
a legion of legends lived before me, their memories, heavy.
alas, they die when i do. 10/30/2011 Posted on 10/30/2011
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 10/31/11 at 04:25 PM I love those wrinkles - they wear well on you. They are your map of a life well lived. How easy it is to dismiss the impact of our "teaching." What is it, what ingredient in our makeup that makes us see only dimly our true and beautiful Selves? (I know it is presumptious of me TO be saying US - but you're a good friend who will forgive me.) I am with you, buddy. |
|
