The
day I dreamed that I was old
Was
a nightmare.My hands were grasping tightly
onto a book.
My hands looking like an old
Stale prune that was just taken
Out of the oven.
One flap of skin
Folding over the other.
Limping like I had no legs,
Struggling each day
That I live.
One eye opening at a time.
Afraid of my biggest fear in life...
Getting old.
I Dreamed That I Was Old-By Stanley Kunitz
I dreamed that I was old: in stale declension
Fallen from my prime, when company
Was mine, cat-nimbleness, and green invention,
Before time took my leafy hours away.
My wisdom, ripe with body’s ruin, found
Itself tart recompense for what was lost
In false exchange: since wisdom in the ground
Has no apocalypse or pentecost.
I wept for my youth, sweet passionate young thought,
And cozy women dead that by my side
Once lay: I wept with bitter longing, not
Remembering how in my youth I cried.
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