Tag Archives: Aging

BROKEN HOURGLASS by Jeffrey Littrell

 

I watch Diane take the hand of her drugstore cowboy

she flushes with contented bliss

her black lipstick ignites him

from their first stolen kiss

 

I can almost feel the Colorado sunshine

hear “Althea” on the Red Rocks stage

the sands of time are falling faster

it’s the epilogue, the final page

 

I can listen to the symphony /  I can try to play the melody

hoping that the Gods will be appeased

searching for my Sylvia Plath / shards of glass litter the path

I’m waiting for one final, last reprise

 

 

 


A VIVID AUTUMN by Jeffrey Littrell

 

the sting of the brisk Bloomington air

chases me across Kirkland

past girlish laughter

fueled by lunchtime daiquiris

 

bliss flowing like warm, soothing lava

in contrast to the chill

 

I try to remember

when the sanguine vitality of youth

coursed through me

and she was my inamorata

 

when we held hands in Dunn Meadow

and watched the music changing color

 

now, I’m just an itinerant lover

a vigilant, misplaced friend

vituperative and jaded

with a frail, calloused heart

 

the trees of Brown County

are a vibrant red and gold

recalling to me when the arduous crawl of age

had yet to slow my walk

 

when the sands of time seemed infinite

and life, a beautiful reckless wonder


SHRAPNEL by Jeffrey Littrell

my life, a whispered lullaby

I stood beside a ghost

who told me that inside of me

was what I feared the most

I used to look up at the stars

I believed they could be reached

I bought into the psycho-babble bullshit

that they preached

I had an air of confidence

and rarely was alone

my spirit was free, my eyes were clear

my heart was made of stone

I used to be a young man

with a future that was bright

now I’m left in restless solitude

imprisoned by the night


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