The Jest

©The Jest

 When skin sags with age,

And liver spots engage,

As joints scream in pain,

The skies fill with rain.

The mirrors now convey

Whiskers ugly gray,

 Peaked orbs set deep,

 Ever more to weep.

Puddles turn to streams,

The mind yet dreams

Fancy plots and schemes

On a myriad of themes!

What, then, is this clatter?

This Circling mass of matter?

But a simple and silly jest

Of a Planetary Guest?

 A poem by: BR Chitwood – August 23, 2018

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18 comments

    1. I’ll never forget my first night home after the hip replacement – the pain pill and sleeping pill were on a collision course, had me hallucinating, angry, cursing…she won’t own up, but I think Julie was thinking ‘head replacement’! Keep getting better, good John! ♥

      Liked by 1 person

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