Imperative

side glances mock 
the youth, 
their moments
of relenting- 

sinuously fulfilling, 
as if the time 
was their own, 
and not perpetual. 

ideas making cycles- 
actions and reactions,
captured by neurons, 
and called original. 

concisely, 
unable to grasp
The Laws of Wisdom,
only time can teach- 

imperative, 
the elder thinks, 
as arthritic bones savor the sun, 
skin blisters raw, and pains to touch.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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Dietrich Avatar
June 28, 2010 at 8:52 PM
oooh, those last two stanzas say it all, Virgina! Good one!
Kendrick Avatar
June 28, 2010 at 10:14 AM
I feel for those arthritic bones...Keep the creative pen flowing..Sara
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