Mostly Alone
Don’t get me wrong
I like being alone
A lot
Yet when I drink
I wish to talk
If only to myself
As I eat
What I cook
I wish somebody could taste it
I rarely sing
Only when nobody is listening
To what might come out
Monologue
I’m old and not old,
not old, yet old.
Strange at first,
yet it’s the only thing
I’m certain of.
Everything else slips.
Different from before,
this new feeling.
As a child, you never doubted
being a child.
Even denial proves it.
When you longed to grow,
you either were or wanted to be,
without question.
Only at my age
(I won’t say which)
you feel this split,
a double self, half-known.
Deny one, the other turns true.
I won’t give examples.
If you can’t imagine them,
you’re not here yet.
I don’t blame you.
It’s the only promise I can keep,
standing where I strangely stand.
Rose in My Backyard
In my backyard
Stands a rose planted by someone else
I inherited it when I bought the house
Yet I rarely see it behind the garage
No matter if I think of it or not
It grows at its own pace
As I occasionally visit it
Would it be appreciated at all
Magic of the Mirror
You were angry and looked in the mirror
Found yourself sullen and scowling
You didn’t like what you saw
So you smiled to make yourself look better
You were worried and felt blue
You peeped in the mirror and found
A long face, then you straightened your shoulders
And held up your fists, ready to fight
You were tired and felt fatigued
With a glance in the mirror
You found a youth behind an old face
Briskly reborn, fifty years younger
You were overjoyed and felt like a king
One quick glimpse in the mirror
Refreshing your mind and memories
A humble, clean soul came back
The Sun
The sun that shines
Is the one
I love
The shining sun
Is what I
Want to keep
What other use
Is the sun
If it keeps running away
Anyway
Who am I—
Not a god, after all
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