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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Written: November 14, 2023 For Robert James Liguori _____________________________________ Sitting in my comfy chair with my injured knees Insouciant spent time alone with my disease. In which my companion bade me farewell. To hoard a spot for me in her paradise dwell. Dreams I had as a child flooded my mind. Eat, study, and play without anguish or grind. Being older never induced a query. Neither did I pursue my parents' theory. My languor body is ripe and showing its age. It subsists, yet I witness a lassitude page. In a mirror, I view a mellifluous, sketchy shape. Upon the eyes of a child, struggle to escape. I used to be a ring, all brilliant and smooth. I slid through the night's lightning and sleuth. Casting jovial rays in a haphazard course While vestigial bellows heralded each source. In this woebegone life, age, and frailty show. As lichen cypress, we sway, graying, and slow. We admit amorphous days to be a ripe apple. Progeria grip pushes youth to grapple. once robust and blooming stems of youth. We aquiver to mellow, writhe, and cough. Our eyes bore witness to the events of life. The exquisite scene is a symphony of strife. A sunken summer reveals a winter of fading light. And the gossamers will be wilting before sight. And the blithely petals will shortly wither away. In a broken bucket, once balmy blooms display.
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