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Poem #3: OLD AGE I
by Steven Levine - March, 1984

Locked inside this dusty room
It surely it the dead man's tomb.

No sound or movement pierce the air
And all around me I can sense the despair
Of lives that are lost and no longer alive
They await their known fate, they await their demise.

The spring once fed their bubbling brook,
And in their time great joy they took
In life's own pleasures and carefree ways
Never watching the moments, never counting the days.

But time marches on, it's not subject to reason
And dawn turns to dusk and season to season
And now I sit inside my room
I feel my time has come too soon.

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