Time seems to be leaving me behind.
Slowly I sway in many-a-breeze,
creaking away like the older trees
and as the bird so glides upon the skies
so does my mind float on higher tides.
I'm the haze over fields on a gray day
ambling into night's phase,
where sight fades like the moon wanes;
oh, I can't but fein—
I do so prefer it this way.
I see and leave the mundane as a leaf leaves life at its most beautiful stage.
Time, take me away. Go at your own pace,
I'm okay to wait, blooming now as this wrinkled smile grows on my face.
- Samuel Richard Leonard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem