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As I sit and watch life pass me by
I stop and have to wonder why...
Is it life's constant trauma stopping me
from being who I want to be?
Or is that the excuse I tend to use
knowing full well, ill health's a ruse?
I ache to reach the "Brass Ring" I'd grab
if not for the weight of all this flab.
I've grown soft in the middle
of age and my waist
just one more time
of youth to taste.
Ah, so sweet the morsels be
if only, if only...
God would let me!
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Jacquie, you have such a lyrical voice in your poetry. This poem takes one right to the heart of the age old struggle...growing older and coming to terms with that, all the while trying to realize our hopes and dreams as the living steals our time away. Kudos!
