By Don Kentop

with lines from “The Spur” by W.B. Yeats

You think it horrible that lust and rage
Should dance attention upon my old age?

More horrible is of my sins, so few
Have lost their temper, none was softened due
To charity or wisdom, less to prayer
Than to growing old. So, unaware
What time could do for me, I was seduced
By virtue, milled to find myself reduced
And made more fungible, a side effect
Of age. I had no reason to expect
A gift. So, if aging can be understood
As grace, then death may in itself be good.
Go, tell those at the rear of the parade
To step lively, and not to be afraid.

Also by Donald Kentop:
Antoinette Bourignan, 1616-1680
Methuselah Recalls the Scent of Cedar


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