yet another year comes
in a long gone age it used to 'cometh'
now it just plain comes
I'm a little older
a little sadder
a little wiser(maybe)
and I'm not sure
whether to welcome it
or to brace for it
The poetry is bad but the sentiment is genuine-my natural instinct is not to rejoice but to bunker down. In fact I feel like a Tennesse Williams poem, in particular this one, which left a deep impact when I first read it many years ago.Here are a couple of stanzas-
And still the ripe fruit and the branch
Observe the sky begin to blanch
Without a cry, without a prayer,
With no betrayal of despair.
O Courage, could you not as well
Select a second place to dwell,
Not only in that golden tree
But in the frightened heart of me?
The whole lovely piece here.