Age

Dried up at the rivers of her feet

Old age is creeping skin

Folded with the precision of time

Lapsing into shades of night

Caressing you to sleep

But peace lost in tossed sheets

And stains of blood and life undone

Arrest your heart with hesitation

While the day’s arrival forbids forgetting.

A touch left unfelt

And words purposely garbled

To keep unsaid the thoughts that fold in

Like dying rivers and creeping skin.