Saturday, February 13, 2016

The night enfolds me


The night enfolds me
I hear the screech of an owl
Searching for his prey

Darkness is my friend
No on sees this face of mine
Now battered with age

Once I was a man
Nay even I was a youth
My life before me

Pretty  maidens come
Surely you like sporting men
Do you not see me?

Dance my pretty, dance
How sweet are the memories
How bitter the pill

Those times have now gone
Cold wind whistles through grey hair
My eyes are so dim

The night enfolds me
I hear the screech of the owl
Searching for his prey

Image found at www.phoography.nationalgeographic.com

4 comments:

  1. Age creeps up on us doesn't it Old Egg? Lovely piece of writing. :-)

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  2. A superb poem Old Egg - the emotion and imagery combined to leave a lasting and haunting image..all carefully woven back full cycle..i think he is seen..absolutely..

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  3. I'm sure there's life in the old Old Egg yet!Keith said you are missing me, so I wrote something. Tra-laaa!

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  4. Father Time and Mother Nature are a fine pair -
    Just when we think we have got 'it' all, 'it' fades.

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