God, You did not give me
enough time to explain
why i was born
given this name
put in this place
and soon to die
after so much time
acts left undone
songs unsung
canvasses waiting
brushes and strokes
poems unwritten
essays unstated
each day feels emptier
creativity abated
by aches and pains
and clouded thoughts
this is what getting
older has wrought
faster and faster
being the best
that i can be
no symmetry
only mystery
of what i was meant
to give and to be
an age old question
or old age question?
even that answer
is too much for me
screaming and kicking
i continue to strive
to discover just what
keeps me alive
annarino writes 