The wear of life
I put on my life again today,
wrinkled, frayed around the edges.
Stains a map of lived-in lives
and threadbare broken pledges.
Yes, I put it on again today,
I have no other life to wear.
It is quite snug and fits me rather well
despite the signs of wear-and-tear.
I'd like to get another one
that shows I'd taken better care.
The odds on this, I know, are slim,
I'd hire one, but from where?
Reflecting now, its fitting
that I put it on with pride.
My life, no worse than others who
wear tailored dreams in which to hide.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (The wear of life by George Dudley )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1644 - 1694)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- 'Hope' is the thing with feathers, Emily Dickinson
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
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