Left To Age Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Rhythms raking my mind, bringing up ideas from depths of
intellect, saturating it with bits and pieces of yester-
days memories.

Forgotten, left to age like a delicate wine through the
years, finally being taken from a vintage year of choice
where existence has not been divided by numbers of age.

Dwindling, fading images trying desperately to hold onto
some semblance of this earthly life, surpassing goals of
the future with surprising agility and grace.

Performing tasks on a mysterious mist of passion as a
final horizon closes it's doors on earth, showing us the
pathway to heaven at last.