I am a writer. Therefore, I am not sane. -Edgar Allan Poe
Looking in the daily glass
I do see a change
As many see the new wrinkles
Spots of the years gone by
All I see is my eyes
No longer the sparkling of what used to
But rather the redness in the eyes
From tears and pain of the past
of who I am now
Where is that girl
Who was afraid but also fearless
The girl who looked
Toward newness and opportunity
Was I ever that girl really
Or is what I see now
A true reflection of who
I have always been
Dying of a broken heart
Is it a possibility
Is it just the start
Of a scientific understanding
A heart that stops working
Could be triviality
A pain that’s lurking
Maybe bioengineering
Or can it be a love long gone
A wish unspoken
Passion overdrawn
Oneself disappearing
Whatever the cause may be
The heart has been broken
This, anyone can see
Death is ever nearing
A dimly lit morning sky
Does not dampen the spirit
Autumn is near
The fragrant trees
Are itching to light
The world aflame
With their fiery hues
The crisp air
A refreshing change
From summer’s calidity
B.A. Wilcox © 