Time lines

 

Invisible scars.

Wounds indiscernible

from the worn old, cracked skin.

Just age, wearing me.

A trophy of its victory,

because time

always wins in the end.

We are the defeated,

so best to just play.

Enjoy the game

and take every day

in our stride,

hands held high in pride,

at our survival

in this warped fairground ride.

 

I see age in the bags

underneath my eyes,

but I know those bags

are concieved of memories,

that I never want to throw out.

I see time lines

on my faded skin,

maps of who I am

and where I've been.

These signs are not

creaking in timeless winds,

they are my story

flowing like an ageless stream.

 

I’ve worn every dimple, wrinkle,

like potholed roads

across my fleshy landscape.

I've got mental sinkholes

from where the past dug

under my brain lobes.

I've got 16 thousand

brain pounding days and nights

pulling my muscles tight,

the edges fraying ready to snap,

but this is just part

of my bodies time map.

 

I've got grey hair,

where it once sat dark.

Wisdom marks where

youthful stupidity

once embarked.

I'm not as young

as I once used to be,

but time keeps tattooing

it's storyline over me.

 

I've got smile lines etch a sketched

next to this mouth of mine,

and I've got love

that always sits in line

 behind these eyes,

flowing right to my heart,

and if time continues

to impart widom so divine,

painting herself on me.

I will always be happy 

to play my part.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading
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You can find my New book
"Tales from the 44A"
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/

Please buy a copy to help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle