Richard George

(June 1,1965 / Cheltenham, U.K.)

Aging Together


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.

Submitted: Friday, March 05, 2010
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  • Ruth Walters (4/15/2010 3:22:00 PM)

    I kind of guess from these words you write that you greatly admire the person you are talking about and are aiming to 'catch up' with him / her in wisdom or such like?
    Poetry riddles like this are irritating and yet enthraling. If I were inside your head I'd know the answers but until then (sometime never) please add footnotes so plebs like myself can understand you more....
    Enjoyed the journey

    Ruth (Report) Reply

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