Art, Pen

Wrinkles

A panting dog looks back at you,

and then, ahead, at the edge of the road.

Out of breath, you wonder

where did you lose it, the youth and its spirit.

But you can write down about the sunset now,

for you have what it takes to appreciate it better :

more spare time to think than to just jump around.

Changes are hard to digest, if you think about them.

But even the cracks in the rocks will tell,

that they have had enough of it.

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2 thoughts on “Wrinkles

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