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Nicholas Gordon
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Seventy-four savors his sweet time.
Each day is more a gift than was the last.
Vested less in things he has to do,
Even though he still has quite a few,
Now he sometimes lingers in the past,
Taking in the music of a vast
Yearning that no memory can define.
Fortune is now more a windward view
On which he looks nostalgically, a sign
Unquestionable that he has crossed a line,
Reaching back for what he once reached to.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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