Class Reunion

Fifty-year class reunions are stricken with sadness: Former classmates falling apart before my eyes. Jane uses a walker, and Stan exhibits madness. Wages of age foreshadow classmates’ demise. In youth’s green age I could not fathom this, A time when peers would be withered and worn. How I wonder could life have gone so amiss? Surveying the scene, my heart is heavy, torn. I give proud thanks that I’m not like the others, Having been spared of time’s toxic touches. “But what has befallen my sisters and brothers?” I ponder the question as I reach for my crutches.