Saturday, November 15, 2014

Daylight savings

Nov. 2, 2014

The cold touches the morning
For the first time since spring,
Coming a full day after a heavy rain
The chill of wet still lingers in me
Even after the streets have dried
And so I stumble into the new day
With an extra hour, limbs stiff
And an acute sense of feeling old,
Each season decreasing
The time left on this mortal coil
And paints my consciousness
With a dim shroud extra daylight
Cannot possibly illuminate,
For a time when what I do
And changing seasons will cease to matter
We bundle up against a chill
For which a coming spring cannot cure
And we prepare for an afterlife
We know nothing about, only guesses,
If only we could turn those clocks back
As easily as we did today, live backwards
The way Merlin reportedly did,
To know the exact measure of our existence
So we might parcel out its pieces better
Letting far less of it go to waste,
I have already outlived most I thought of as dear
The curse that comes with survival, if not old age,
And how lonely it becomes when one
Has seen the last of those who have come before
And have no one left to comfort me
When my time comes.

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