Edmund Siejka Poet Narrative

Day To Night

During the emptiness of a Fall day
I sat in a barber’s chair
Watching
Nimble fingers 
My hair falling 
Like white snow
Gently bouncing and tumbling
Into my lap
And wondered
Weren’t they once a dark chestnut
Or was it all my imagination? 

In my youth
I listened to the poets
Met the painters
Drank with the writers
And watched the beginnings 
Of many promising mornings
When people spoke of new ideas
Because 
It was a time when we were all young
And everything was possible.

Now, in the thin days of old age
I recall
The promises and slogans 
Of long ago
Weren't always what they seemed to be. 
  
Blankly staring
Into the clouded
Barber’s mirror
I study my vision  
Asking why
Those memories keep me awake at night
When near the end 
Shadows beckon me 
To step away.

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Poet Destroyer A August 26, 2012 at 7:36 PM EDMUND, congratulations with your featured poem of the week. :-) Always~PD

L'Nass Shango March 20, 2009 at 11:49 AM So we are travelling a similar road now? Your poem calls up remembrances that holds the mind like a butterfly net. Love

Carolyn Devonshire March 20, 2009 at 11:13 AM Brilliant commentary on the shocking impact of finding those gray hairs! I try "to step away" from mirrors more and more as the years pass. When I do look into them, I often don't know who is staring back at me. Love, Carolyn