30 October 2012
How does it happen?
How do we pass the time so quickly,
Busying our idle minds with books and bills and telephone calls
And never notice our hair grow,
Our eyelashes fall out,
Our bodies growing, extending,
Like the branches of a silver birch
And, as we age,
Crack, like the bark of a birch,
To reveal darker, truer patches of ourselves
Between the sporadic pearly patches
Of facade
So that we may remain, at least... A little
What we wanted to be at the end of all this.
How does it happen?
Birch • Opuss № I