On the horizon of sixty
Stands waiting silent solitude
Life is slowly retreating
Leaving us on the shore
Of an unfathomable lake
Amongst the mist of indifference
And bodily suffering due
To the constant leaking
Of our vital energy
We have to learn to accept
Our recent corporal limitations
Shedding tear by tear
Specks of one's identity
Every new day
Moored is the boat to cross
The dark unknown waters
Ultimate transport
We are to take
Not knowing if we will ever reach
The distant veiled shore waiting
Patiently in utter stillness for us
To travel its way.
Lucette C. Bailliet ©
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