Hi - I'm new and would appreciate comments.
The poet realising the profundity of age
When I was young, I did not understand
The meaning of the word regret. To me
It always was a foreign dusty land,
Who’s citizens the past can not forget.
But now I rest upon those shores some days,
No tourist gazing slack mouthed from the sea.
But visitor, who each time longer stays,
And spends her time in mournful reverie.
As years lend weight to memory, the paths
I take are inward bent. Reflecting not
On things remaining lost, or misery;
But joy – who makes so lucid lament.
Thanks
Mairi
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