It's a difficult thing, admitting I've
grown old, no longer denying the truth,
and staring deep into my mortality which
until now I've not wanted to accept.
In those flourishing days of my youth
I often felt as if I could outgrow my skin,
heaving and throbbing with life’s lust,
but now I feel I am shrinking back,
back too far into this aging, useless shell,
finally seeing how I'm at the autumn
of my life while it gathers around me
as brittle leaves swirl about a lamppost.