As years do roll to their shore,
Less and less fierce they become,
Heights fall, and widths shorten,
Waves lose their former thrust;
Huge waves cool to minor sweeps,
Roars dwindle to low murmurs
And lose the weight of the start,
Disconnect from where all began.
The race is from dawn to dusk
In the spectrum of day and night;
Freshness hots up to tiredness,
Cool dews sublimate to nothingness
In the sultry air blowing around
As day does reach vaulting heights;
Then unbroken slow fall begins
Till twilight thrusts its own claims.
Twilight is the joy of refraction,
Of past passed thro' memory's prism
While no hot light stirs the world;
Blinding night stares from front,
Midday heat mocks from the past,
Inbetween trapped is a tired space
Knowing not it needs rest or thrust,
Tired, yet rolls from long past habit.
It's an engine in need of fuel,
It's unclean with accumulated carbon
In its exhaust blocking fresh air;
Engine rattles, whole body shudders,
No mechanics fixes the problems there;
Not fast ride, not even steady ride,
Yet drives along to next goal post
As years do roll to their shore.