The ague of years

The ague of years

The lolling of a weary head

Bone-tired eyes

It is a robbery

Stolen in the night

As you lay

Strapped within the bonds

Of reckless waste

Restless spirit leaking out

In broken sleep

Youth and flesh stripped away

Pushing it back

The feel of cool stone

Beneath your palm

The sand on your feet

The softness of moss

The moist smell

Brine and salt

How green it looks

In the mind's eye

Far from restriction.

A pincushion of guilt

The years falling away

The sap drying in your veins

The strength fading

As the moon wanes.

Even as you wait

Afraid to hold on,

To let go.

Your eyes will remain

Younger than dreaming

Just for the moment, it takes

To slip into slumber.

Touching the gold

There is a release

Until the tether tightens

The links stretch

And with a jolt

There is a return

To the pain of it

The strain of it.

Rushing quietly forward

Pulling slowly back

Teetering this way and that

Unsure which way

The wind blows

Until one final gust

Pushes you over.