WHEN I'M 65
the rubble of my youth
Broken tile and crumbled brick
The dust of childhood, decades thick
Ruins chained behind a fence
Our memories have no defense
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Flashes of memory
Deepest intangible
Chillingly empty on impact
The past, without warning
Sensing its welcome
Stages a sneak attack
leaving
This leaf has traveled on a breeze
That never meant to be a wind
It didn't mean to shake the branch
It thought to be a gentle friend
But timing and the powers that be
Turned gentle friend to enemy
The leaf was gold when it left home
It never noticed turning brown
It hadn't known a world so cruel
Not having seen it from the ground