stolen moments
are my everyday
every breath i take
a reminder that says
"you are still alive"
an empty stare
looks back at me
captured in a mirror
trying to get free
getting to tired to try
stolen moments
sitting all alone
no visitors knocking
no ringing telephone
a silence amplified
a darkness falls
sun shining bright
a final journey
into the white light
a life contrived
YOU ARE READING
contrived
Poetrysometimes life is contrived. My thoughts and observations on aging.