Worn gold, fear not fresh plastic.
Each furrow reflects
a superhighway of desire blazed
into my landscape of neurons.
You, with the deepest roots, are my tallest tree.
It was at your equator
I began. My odyssey
through forest and savannah
has reached a plateau which,
because it is you now, becomes beautiful.
In twenty more years
I cross your snow line.
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Comments about this poem (Aging Together by Richard George )
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