Old Age Poem by Bryan Taplits
Old Age
Receding from the ocean,
My future no more roars.
I'm roiled and all asunder
As I approach my final shore.
Nowadays I clearly see that land-
That once was hidden in the fog-
And also see that the sea and me
Were united
-not each a separate cog.
My only hope is to avoid this shore
But I'm Fate's helpless dupe,
No longer Curiosity's Hand-Maiden:
But a Pilgrim
On a shipwrecked-seeking sloop.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 12:36:51 PM # 1.0.0.1119
