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Clouds Passing Over
THE AGE OF SUCCESS
The old man's wrinkled skin resembles
the brittle tree bark in midwinter.
The bulging veins of his aging hands
is somewhat reminiscent of a torn road map.
His body has shrunken since his
earlier years and he has become as
fragile as imported china and crystal ware.
He is now as delicate as a dried
leaf blowing in the fall wind and
he mumbles out stories of younger days.
He can sit for hours,
alone,
staring dreamily at the summer's stars.
You can see visions in his glossy eyes,
and read history in the lines of his face.
You are there for company and support,
much like a human crutch.
When he moves, his bones crack like
the forests; sticks under you feet
He may feel much like a burden.
but all his words bring wisdom.
To spend tiime with an old an, you
can only learn what you don't yet know.
Every single old person is knowledge
and knowledge lets you live until
you are at the age of success.
With the death of each elder dies
a part of their culture.
He is neither a burden nor you a necessity,
but with his experience and your ambition
together, as a team, life becomes bearable.
For Uncle Herman, Grandma Ruby and others who have made an impressions on someones life.
Strong (poem for unity)
Room To Be Friends
Blood In This Body
I Will Be There
Send E-Mail to: cloudspassingover@yahoo.ca
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