Issue
#3

May
2009 

a poem by Wayne Mason

Dead End Roads

This old town
has really grown
and I've really
grown old

And it's hard
to age gracefully
with memories
walkin 'round
like skeletons

When every street
every bar and dive
is imprinted with
a ghost of myself

My spiritual residue
on time itself
like smudges
on glass

When you know
every back road
and every alley
like wrinkles on
your haggard face

The years
bring no wisdom
only gray hair
with the candle
lit at both ends
and all that's burning

is youth

© Wayne Mason

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