Young man, do you not see me as once I might have been?
Is it the wrinkle, the sagging skin Time laid upon me that you see?
Once I stood, perhaps like you, with noble thoughts and dreams
A new bright morning might bring.
Time wore me down with its ceaseless ubiquitous ways and subtle promises.
Time taunted and tempted me with its guile and deceptions,
With its beauty beads of love.
Time gave me its reins to run wild with the wind toward sunrise and sunset.
Time now leaves me here along the sea, better to have had its moments of joy;
Sad to have you see the frail and broken parts of me.
Young man, can you not see me as once I might have been?
(An ending poem in a book by Billy Ray Chitwood, “The Cracked Mirror – Reflections Of An Appalachian Son”)
Billy Ray Chitwood – October 12, 2018
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