papery thin skin

shivering like ocean waves in a breeze

clings to fragile bones -

thin

yet steady -

like those of a bat.

holding it in flight

above the forest of youth

in which it once lived,

but must now leave for another fate.

.

sparks flicker in faded ocean blue eyes

...the remnants of an ink now weary

after rendering its picture bright

for all these meandering years.

now they watch a rapidly changing,

moving

world. of shiny new oddities. stopping

and starting.

(They don't comprehend its order.)

.

the old mind craves familiarity...

a phone that whirs and clicks

not one that beeps and replies in monotone

chugging trains dirtying the sky

not late electric ones promising utopia

rural freedom and laughter under blue skies

not age restrictions and apartheid of movement

.

grey hair tumbles, clinging to follicles

below which weathered nerves whisper melancholy thoughts of the old days,

just wanting to return one more time to those

( - idyllic times - calm - despite the raging history

that is all anyone remembers now)

before forgetness and oblivion steals it all

.

and the google search spits up black

and white

pictures

to replace polychrome memories.