I Am Growing Old

i see that my edges are no longer of soft and feathered curves
i am growing weathered before my very eyes
eyes that gaze back upon my curious fascination with
time
and time again
i am
faced with the days and weeks that glide by and by
so quickly
so swiftly
i am
amazed
that my sweetbreads are so slippery
i imagine
new and free
i am flummoxed by the months that have piled on top of the other in me
and another is new
and old is dew
and once again dust
i watch
i see it
as
i am
aware
that time is
here.
It ticks
It tocks
It ticks
It tocks.......