gray flecks on my beardcrow’s feet nestled under my eyes-
reminders that time never rampages,
like enemy tanks
on a muddied battlefield, but instead
drip drip dripping
like glaciers baking in the sun,
and I am in no hurry to grow old
and pass on into the ether, but I do fear being forgotten
Out Where the Buses Don't Run 
The last two lines are my own two greatest concerns. Then again, isn’t that the same for everyone?
heavy. makes me frightened.