Geezer

I grow weary reading difficult verse,
Wearier still staring at sterile land,
And probably weariest most of all
Considering the loss of zeal which
Comes with age and weighs on me.
Where once I simply would have walked
Away from what I'd tired of reading,
Would have gone outside and forced
Myself upon that lifeless land, now
I do not. It seems I've lost the will.
Instead, I sit. I close my eyes and sleep,
An old man who's become so dull,
My own self wearies me.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 44 times
Written on 2020-03-22 at 21:06

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