The Restless Poet

Time- weathered skin,
once radiant and bright,
now a dull complexion,
against the autumn light.

Age spot imperfections
marred, parchment-thin hands.
Tiny tributaries that once
pulsed through the folds,

– dried up, lifeless,
now a faded glow.

Fragile edges crumble,
and to the earth return,
Fallen and forgotten,
awaiting winter’s burn.

The parched and brittle landscape
now sprinkled with the dust,
of flowers long forgotten
with advance of early dusk.