A curse of time living too long
unlike the harvest moon to not belong;
to slumber on as an old solitary meander song
to remember lost years past when we were strong;
cobweb shadows time dusted weaved lifelong
'tis late but yet death knell does not dong;
A curse of living too long
another to add to the list;
is all our friends did pass away
some decades past death did slay;
we outlive them all, address book fills
with deleted scratched out names;
none live on to recite remember our deems
of fame long passed lost spring summer days;
we live on to be shadow strangers in places of changes
those we knew buried burned spread to scattered cemeteries;
a footnote a brief adieu eyes step read by echo passes
in forgotten rows of engraved tombstone names.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem