Stranger years Poem, by A.B. Jakobsen, at My poetic side

Nowadays I don’t know what is worse

The ghostly past or marching future

Or for better or worse, the uncertain now

That i write in this verse, to make sense somehow

But I realize under its echoing peal

Scars of yesteryear that will never heal

And perhaps I am losing my way?

As it only hurts more with each passing day

Thro these coming years I’ll wander alone

Far beyond anything that I’ve ever known

Scars that were healed are torn once more

But always nature’s doings I’ll adore

And once my journey has reached its bourn

I reckon no one will be there to mourn

For a stranger I have become to any and all

And so to my tired grave I’ll crawl

1/1/2023

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