What Passes Poem by Shirley Anne Alexander

What Passes



The old men in the park
have benches that belong to them,
by rights of time spent.

Shapeless, they sit in their worn grey suits,
faces collapsing into soft folds of brown wrinkles.
Leathered hands tremble their way
through yesterday’s “News”.

But, the old men see what passes
as we rush by, unaware of their glances.

We are filled with the passion
of our different dreams.

Young men have not yet learned
dreams are always the same.
It is only the dreamers who change,
into old men in the park.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Laurie Hill 14 January 2020

An intriguing read with moving imagery of life and time

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Shirley Anne Alexander

Shirley Anne Alexander

Somewhere under heaven, Georgia, USA
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