I grow old, I grow old

Slow Reads:

So much of what I’ve written before feels like innocence.
I could no more write it again than the earth could cool.

How did I find this pencil? Was I reaching in the kitchen drawer
for a twist tie, or did I fish it out of my old shorts?

2 Replies to “I grow old, I grow old”

  1. Woah! Thank you so much, Dave. I’m honored. (And, as I mentioned a while ago, I like this less-frequent but more-prominent Smorgasblogging.)

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