These wrinkles are nothingThese gray hairs are nothing,This stomach which sagswith old food, these bruisedand swollen ankles, my darkening brain,they are nothing.I am the same boymy mother used to kiss.
Related Authors: Mark Strand
Related Topics: ageing, poetry, time
Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *
Comment *
Name *
Email *
Website
Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment.
Δ
