Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Poetry


The ghost passed by me
In the garden disguised as wind,
A barely noticeable breeze as succulent
As fresh raspberries when summer
Arrives as a memory of being young.

It was the future me, trying to whisper
A final warning into my unlocked ear,
To slow the pace of my wanting,
To stop longing for what will never
Be possible, to stop striving for
A health that will never return.

I am nothing now, just a lost soul
Wandering around the garden
Of my middle age.

R 31/05/2023 12:30

All I’ll say about today is that pain of mind and body result in a failure to fully concentrate. I will not beat myself up about it.

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