Three Poems About Sorrow
III
People who age resemble stones
less sculptured
more and more of faded color.
Passing among them
I get emotional as long as
I can help finish my day.
I pass, I hardly touch anything;
only the birds get startled
by the movement and
fly away to the blue.
I live compassionately
dreams give me shivers
I feel numb.
And all my plans
turn into reality
what little choice I have
when I think of all
the shapes spring takes
all the possibilities of my birth
such little imagination!
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