Photo by Grant Richie, Unsplash

An Old Man’s Lament

On the eve of another birthday

Ronald C. Flores-Gunkle
Published in
Jun 3, 2024

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Were I but young and free to fly
I would take off from this rock
And fly as high as one can fly:
The sky. I’d reach the very top.

But I am an agéd tree
Soiled by timeworn tears,
Rooted in the soil of years,
Too tangled to fly free.

The morning rain may flow
And wet the withered earth,
But for me, there’s no rebirth,
No room for roots to grow.

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Ronald C. Flores-Gunkle
Lit Up

An aged humanist hanging on to the idea that there is hope for humankind against most current indications.