Paul Reed Poems

Survivors, that is what we are
We had to be to get this far,
We wouldn't allow ourselves to crumble and fold
Or give in to the ravages of growing old;
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When the time arrives

As it will eventually do
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A pebble collected

A piece of paper, crumpled and torn
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Everything is ready
As I take the morning air
Everything is in front of me
As Spring begins it’s repair
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We wait until all things are still
And a glorious and guidng hand settles gently
We stand becalmed in the glow of the moment
That we have waited for so fervently
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As the morning breaks
We go our separate ways
But always think of each other;
We do our own things
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When you grow older
The world will not be the same
The rules become more rigid
Of what seemed an easy game;
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In my garden
There are quiet places
That no-one else looks at
But I do.
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You are looking over my shoulder
At everything I see
For, even as I get older,
I'm not as wise as I should be;
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Through fringed grasses, frothing cow parsley
Narrowing like an arrow head
The long, straight path runs it's course;
...