ON AGING, by Max Hawthorne

A tree stripped of leaves, barren and grey,
Withered and gnarled, ever more so each day.
A river once mighty, now shallow and still,
Meandering down, ever absent of will.
The days of our lives, once passing so slow,
Like horses unreined, are gone ere we know.
A body like steel, now covered in rust,
Like all things about us, must crumble to dust.

by Max Hawthorne
circa: 1986

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