To Get Old Is A Kind Of Art Poem by Gert Strydom

Far too quickly time did catch up with him
and with an aged body he stands bended
with a distant gaze in his bright blue eyes.
Out of a cloud a bright ray comes
when the last shadows of the grey afternoon linger
and he thinks about his own inability,
about a life that has been lived and suddenly he is sad
but for his thoughts there is no language.
For a moment a thunder flash is caught upon his retina,
a drop runs down his cheek
when he thinks about his own transience
and in him the great longing remains
when a couple in love runs past
and in the distance he hears the clear laughter of a child.