by Richard Vince
The years have been unkind to me,
But somehow, almost a decade on,
She seems young. She looks older,
Yet the sparkle of youth that
Caught my eye so long ago
Has not been dulled.
The pub in which she worked has
Been refurbished many times
Since it was briefly the hub of
My almost social life;
Even without her teenage braids,
She needs no rejuvenation.
It is strange how we become more
Ourselves, and less. How the years
Change us fundamentally while we
Distract ourselves with the little things.
While I think of how friends
Have changed, what is there about
Myself that I fail to notice?
Posted on 04/05/2013
Copyright © 2022 Richard Vince
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by George Hoerner on 04/06/13 at 12:30 AM|
Oh Richard, fear change over time to the changed seems nonexistent. Just as a smoker can walk into his own house and not smell the smoke, we close our eyes to the changes until they jump upon us and smack us in the face. And I've seen one or two those attractive bar maids in your pubs. They all know how to give you smile and pour you another round. At my age I still look back and don't think I've changed but I know better..... Take care. and good write.
|Posted by Sandy M. Humphrey on 04/08/13 at 07:28 PM|
I like your observations of your friend, and too the question of what we might miss of ourselves. I notice how I change externally but internally I think I am still myself but I know that is not so...others will see the subtle differences, hopefully with a kind eye as you have here. Wise and well versed poetry. smh