We Grow Old Poem by Lazarus Knix
We Grow Old
Cool, white breeze
Fans her burnt, bright hair
With the breath of Autumn
A minute turn in the body,
A stiff bend of the back,
Feeling this, she sighs damply.
Her thick, swinging strands
Are bright at the tip
And gray at the root.
We grow old-
From the inside out.
Friday, November 13, 2009
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5/18/2024 9:18:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
