At Fifty-One Poem by Adrian Antique

My dreams seem shorter …
Especially those that I vividly remember.
Always her face and her waving goodbye,
Sometimes it's those crazy gestures just asking why.

Why do my mornings now move slower?
Why does sadness take forever?
Can some moments be stretched a little bit longer?
It seems stories are being told much faster …

Indeed, the tales around me are piling up
Although I try to catch some falling, they won't stop …
So, I write a few on paper and quite a number on my hidden wall
Inside my tired imagination colored by rainfall.

My leap has diminished but I crave more to fly
As if my running and jumping was always aimed for the sky.
My body has grown weary but my mind grows restless …
Like wanting to swim the ocean before I could get undress.

I am somehow nearing the finish line,
That length of yellow and white string I could see …
Half a century of weaving my rainbow flower vine
And building sand castles near the sea.

From now on, my sunrise shall be slow and lasting …
I will hold on to each beam like a taste of everything -
And each twilight,
I will keep the day's moments like a bottle of fireflies
And release them for the angels when I finally close my eyes.