Photo by the author.

Fifty-Five

for Allan, September 8, 2022

Aging is a fiction, a figment,
a fragment, mentally at least,
our bodies declining slowly to ground,
grinding, while who we are continues,
grows, becoming who we will be.

You are not who you were or wanted,
the past a whisper hung in air,
expectations merely fictions of your mind,
signs, unrecognized by the future
you, already and not yet, now.