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
The last two lines are my own two greatest concerns. Then again, isn’t that the same for everyone?
heavy. makes me frightened.