Olden Age
A fantasy within a dream is life:
A journey through the coldest caves of time,
The unrequited call of foreign lands,
Which only the free spirit understands
When mind and body both are in their prime
And yearnings do not bear the scars of strife.
When reason, though, stirs up in olden age
And the first snowfall gathers on the ground,
When cranes and skittish geese desert the place,
The heavy haze is torn asunder to make space
For childish wishes, treasures to be found,
And younger actors full of vigor on the stage.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
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