IT’S RECALLING ALL THE RACES RUN

That makes me frown and often fret.

It’s recalling that my memory’s gone

Left behind with

Races I never ran but still regret.

It’s knowing I once had 

Muscles, wavy hair and unspent power

To fuel my stride.

Now recalled with diminished self-awareness

And forgotten fields of pride.

IT’S LIVING IN A WORLD I NEVER CHOSE

That makes me question

Who I see behind my eyes.

It’s living in a body that 

fails so often

There’s never a sense of real surprise.

It’s feeling shackled and forgotten

In a prison of my Maker’s 

Cruelest device.

A prison whose crumbling walls

Shout whispers of forgotten fields

And my inevitable demise.

IT’S THOSE FORGOTTEN FIELDS

Where lovers no longer lay 

Where youth and plans and dreams

No longer visit or stay to play. 

It’s the power and the fires of my youth

Thoughtlessly squandered and 

Stupidly spent,

The races I now count as lost

Whose victories and echoing cheers 

So quickly came and more quickly went.

These memories undo my peace 

They shake my fragments of grace.

They leave me to ask with grim irony 

Which of all the races yet to run

Will bring me my final race?