At This Age (50 To 60)

everything becomes
merely nothing
but reminiscences

nothing efflorescent
or even fluvial

once there was a boy
rising from rags to riches

once there was a girl
who became the wife of the president

once there was a love so true
it brought nothing but sadness

once there was a home
splintered like a grenade

once there were beautiful times
fading like sunset.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!