Mirrors Age
As morn braces against the emptiness of night
And cock crows echo in waves of yellow light
Fallen mixed colors brush along the coarseness’ of stone
As fall would have them, these leaves of gold
Age as time moving swiftly through coveted hope
Laid far along twisted roads, yearning there and then
to be not parted here, have alas a distance near
But what of it, who so best to have it, more!
I tire now on thinking further,
and would love to simply settle
On piles of leaves bright along the way
To answer no more
to things that must stay
‘Cause with any wisdom here,
I would have experienced it there
On piles of leaves I will stay, and rest a time
before another day
And should it be the last of things, then so be it,
for I would have had
what it was before its last,
and what more can I ask -
to take on roads we can not stand
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