Old Fools & Poets Lament

It must be something
to do with old age
that makes us seem
so stupid and fragile.
We get blown about
in strong winds,
and fly and soar
and dash upon the rocks.

It shouldn’t surprise us,
we’ve been here before
and flew willy-nilly,
bandied about by the words,
playing tag
with the faces in the clouds
and chasing rainbows
no one else sees.

It must be something
to do with the lack of oxygen
to the brain,
that we are now like the monarch
circling the candle,
not caring our wings are singed,
mesmerized
by the dance of the sun.

It must be something
to do with the fact
that part of us
never grows up,
content to be charmed
by those things less beautiful
than anything
we choose to remember.