Tag Archives: the aging process

still life with nostalgia

each day brings me
one poem closer
to 50, which is fine
with me, i guess
because i’m still not
there yet, being nearer
to the other side of 40, but
what the hell? what the hell
happened to that young
man i used to be, what-
ever happened to his
wide-eyed ignorance?
oh, sure, he was a bit
of a fop and not so long
before that a total milk sop
yet i miss his passionate
intensity, his surety of purpose
(when i lack all conviction) for
although i am the poet he so
longed to be i would swap it all
to re-live his dreams and
guileless naivety.