When we at last
have clawed our way
to the heights
of our life’s desire,
to the apex,
to the very pinnacle
to which we
have so long aspired
we are disillusioned.

For our dreams and goals
have been hollow ones.
They desert us now
in our most needy hour.

Ashes and embers
are all that now remain,
of our youthful, raging fires.

All we knew,
all we have ever loved,
all the best of things
have faded into the years,
and have been replaced
by mounds of money
laying useless, mouldy,
unwanted, unneeded
in some distant bank,
and by creaking, shaky limbs,
and by empty
passages of bitter time.


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Filed under Poetry For the People

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