Aging in bloom.
Walking outside
While,
The sun hits my aging tired eyes
Kinda wishing I could be in a disguise
While
meanwhile our clementine tree is blossoming .
I find myself rooted and faltering.
Looking around,
I’m left to wonder,
when did my sight begin to blunder?
Like an old television, dim and unclear,
fading the picture year by year.
One day I'll be dead, lost in the drear of the end.
Every Monday new poem or short story. !
... like a beautiful blend of spring and winter, a perfect harmony of sadness and joy :) Good one!