Lines From the Midlife

I winged with the doves in my unbounded boyhood. Those rainbows and the contrails still stay in the soul. I sweated several times but that never lost me sleep. Now anxieties sprout in the sweat. I lose me in the parching forebodings. Conditioned by the symptoms, both heard and read, I die again, of heart attack this time. I remember a swarm of fireflies decorating my dark spring. My midlife fruits (flowered in the torrid weather) have ripened. I glimpse an infinite emptiness in the waning light. Even the dreams transform strangely, sometimes with the presence of the departed. Something somewhere will remain on nothing. First published in The Literary Hatchet