Growing Older

Growing Older
By: James Dubeau

When one grows older
One starts to realize
That the world isn’t the same
As it once was

Not as it was remembered
Nor as it was in actuality
The world has changed
And so have I

Things were easy once
And heads were full of hair
Now every day is a struggle
And my body fell to pieces

As I walk down these streets
Familiar to my senses
Sight, touch, taste, smell, hearing
It all comes rushing back

Familiarity only goes so far
Echos of places long past
It is not the same here
I have never walked these streets

I am reminded of past friends
Smiles and laughs once had
Heartache over girlfriends
And choices that were made

The future seems so dim
In comparison to those times
When I was full of hope
And time stood still

Lately I had forsaken what I love
Unmotivated to be productive
Or am I just to scared
Fearful of what the future may bring

It was once said
Five years ago
That now is the time
A future must be made

As I walk these streets
Not much has changed
Future must still be made
And now is still the time

Maybe now that I am older
Reality will finally strike
And I will pursue what I love
Achieving far off goals

Or I will stay the course
Floating through time and space
In no particular direction
With no destination in sight

Old Oak Tree

Old Oak Tree
By: James Dubeau

Dawn’s early morning light
Twinkling specks amongst the darkness
Fade with the rising sun
The great orange ball hangs low
Impressing all that see it
Alone in the field
Stands a tall oak tree
His trunk wide with age
Leafy branches covering the tree
As the sun lights the field
A dark path emerges through the grass
Shadow elongated
From the wise old oak tree
Morning turns to noon
Sun raises high in the sky
Shadows shorten
Reducing to nothing
A leaf breaks free
Falling slowly to earth
Followed by another
And another
Cool crisp wind
Breaks several free
Fall is coming
Noon slowly turns to evening
Shadows reemerge from the tree
Heading in the opposite direction as before
Branches thin as leaves fall to the wayside
Leaving behind only a fatted trunk
Wisdom leaves with the falling leaves
Twinkling speaks return
As evening turns to night
Horizon gradually covers the falling sun
The old oak tree stands alone