a.d. winans | early birthday poem


sitting here fifteen days
before my seventy-eight birthday
I drink my morning coffee in solitude
wear the early chill of morning
like a quilt of stitched memories
my mind a nosy intruder
plots the course of my life

the eye can not see
the naked universe
nor caress the fertile stars
the moon a graveyard
shines its eyes down on me
surely that is not me
I see in the mirror

the months the years
revolving doors
like the trick mirrors
at the fun house
at Play land at the Beach

friends fewer in number
wait for me in my dreams
like ducks in a blind
left with a cup of morning coffee
a spoon that stirs memories
of young women
the pleasure of warm flesh
on fresh linen sheets
hot as an iron pressed
to a a singed garment
turned to bones that rattle
in the graveyard of my dreams

the conversations that lasted
into the early morning hours
turned to idle chatter
with ghost’s from the past

0 Replies to “a.d. winans | early birthday poem”

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.