Seasons of the Body - II

by JLR

Oh, those telltale bulges under your eye.
Little wrinkles crinkle, hinting, head up.
Forays not brisk, shorter cutbacks you try.
Coffee only during the morn, one cup.

Head up, great friend. Nighttime, daytime; Trusted

Sometimes dented, broken, ailing, just tired.

Clearly treasured, like old cars, but rusted.

Wintry morns bring warnings; old bones retired.

Springtime fancies flashback. Somewhere screenplays

bushwhacked teen days soundtrack of their laughter

while thoughts cutback, lifetimes move on, crossways

ever onward humbly fore-and-after.

Friend, my friend, what awesome journeys we've had.
Many long years, some roads not so mellow,
you have carried my bones well, I am glad.
So thanks! You're no quitter, my good fellow.

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Poem 25 - NaPoWriMo entry

Quantrain, trochaic pentatmeter

Author Note: My Friend, is what I call my body physical.

thanks for the use of Photo by Ricardas Brogys on Unsplash

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Poem 25

A chapter in the book Seasons of Change

Seasons of the Body - II

by JLR

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