by Debi Swim
What will I dream now that I am old
Now that I’ve seen them come and go
What will I feel now that my dreams
Have floated along on ruffled streams
What will I long for in my old age
At this last, lingering, lonesome stage
Warm summer breezes during the snow
Custards and ice cream under willows
Dead-heading blossoms drooping and brown
and turning the seeds back into the ground
Maybe I’ll live to see another spring
With kites of all shapes on taut cotton string
Maybe there are still things to be desired
and like small shaky embers will burst into fire.
Debi Swim has had poems published in two anthologies, online publications and in the Bluestone Journal for Bluefield College. She is a persistent WV poet who loves to write to prompts.