Age

Enjoy some poetry by Emmanuel G. Freeman

Cool life, calculating days as minutes.
With each minute moving at the speed of light.
Time surges by. Especially when we are not looking.
Over time, miniature version of yourself, found only in pictures look like a different person.
Same person, but mortified.

It’s funny to think how Great-grandma was once beautiful, and a heartbreaker.
It’s funny because when you see her, all you see is a bagged-up, wrinkled-up epithelial.
Her beauty, long gone.
So long gone, it’s delusional to graze those paths.
Her words, fumbling. Practically unheard, as she is punished by this ever-puissant force of life.
All she has is her wheelchair, her spot, and her time. Clicking away the seconds to her ultimatum.
Grandma has aged.
She is age.
She’s the best example of it.

Age fights you. It always gives you ultimatums. Grow, you need to play outside- you grow.
Stop playing, you’re are too grown for that- you stop playing and focus on better things. Probably books.
You’re a grown ass now. Get a job! Do something with your life- again you listen.
Get married, aren’t you too old to be dating- yikes! No choice but to comply.
“I’m too old to do this. I can’t run. My days doing these things are over.”
Pathetic! Sadly, we all must do this.

Age is psychological. It exists, but only in your mind.
The body fades from wears and tears, yet we never age. It’s just numbers.
If you have a lot. And I mean a whole lot of it. Be grateful.
These days, reaching 18 years is more life.

 

Emmanuel G Freeman can be contacted at efreeman1@worcester.edu. Please reach out to him for any comments you have. 

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