These Better Days We Hold...

The earth is clad in capes of leaf

And draped in shapes of letting go

Aesthetic appeal cloaks the grief

That comes with knowing what we know

…how even in the grin of it

The sting of it is ever nigh

And everything we hold a bit

Is but the prelude to good-bye

Thus, we cannot afford to haste

Or waste these better days we hold

For fear that we forget to taste

The full flavor of growing old

Time’s spartan grace of clock-faced ranks

Urges us with humility

To touch time's coattails with sheer thanks

At such an opportunity

© Janet Martin