Poetry Prose


Watching shows with the volume on blast
And the subtitles on.
Ear hair needs trimming
And yet retirement is so far away.
Old too soon
Or just admitting a new reality exists?

Wearing down was supposed to be gradual
But it’s accelerated by the month.
You can see the end
And it’s bleak and unmanageable.
No graceful dénouement.
No gentle goodbye.

There’s time for tears,
But right now it’s anger and frustration
At all of the battles put down
And the new ones cropped up.
Who has the energy for it all?
What do you do when the face
In the mirror is no longer you?

© 2022 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

By jebrownwriter

Houston, TX-based Writer and Photographer. Proud pet rescuer who spends nearly all his money on them.

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