Brittle Leaves

It's a difficult thing, admitting we've
grown too old, no longer denying the truth
and staring deep into our mortality which
until now we've not wanted to accept.
In those flourishing days of our youth
we often felt as if we could outgrow
our skins, but now we feel as if we are
shrinking too far into aging, grey husks,
finally seeing how we're at the autumn
of our lives while it gathers around us
as brittle leaves swirling about a lamppost.

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