Ephemeral

Another year, another extension.

Wiser, but less in heart than one should allow.

Once I'd settle for only the world,

Now I scrape for specks of a dreg

And yet I'll always dream . . .

A quaint little bush, a thicket to call my own.

A crisp breeze through the reeds,

Watchful of the heron's ascent. 

Time is a salve - yet cruel all the same

To the ephemeral state of being.

Author's Note

Thanks to anyone who takes a moment to read my work. All comments welcome.

Reviews

[Rowan Liddell]

This poem strikes a cord in me. I'm not sure if it's the feeling of becoming embittered with age or the acceptance that time will pass with or without your consent. Either way, it echoes very nicely. It's very sensory and at the same time cerebral. Poetry is an art form that few know exactly how to work in anymore, so it's always nice to read one that echoes like this one does. Thank you for sharing it :)

[Michael L]

Thanks for your review! I agree with what you wrote, and I appreciate your kind words. :)