Ancient (an acrostic poem)

Age practically dripped from his eyes

Narrow crevices in his cheeks channeled it to his down turned lips

Catching on the stubble of his six day old white beard

It collected there until large drops of it plopped to the ground below

Eyeing those around him, he wondered if they realized how quickly time moved

Nothing had prepared him for that rapid transition

Too bad he couldn’t tell time to get off his lawn, else he might be fertilizing it

 

Image: raincoaster.files.wordpress.com/2017/06/oldmanocean-61.jpg

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