On the edge of autumn,
I see the sky and trees ablaze with color.
I can still smell
the smoldering fires of fierce youth,
when the landscape of my heart was wild,
a wilderness that wouldn't be tamed.
But I'm afraid
old age has quenched my thirst for adventure.
Even my poems have lost their teeth.
Gone are my scabbed-up knees
and swords made of sticks.
No beautiful maidens to rescue;
just constipation to overcome
as I listen to the ticking
of the clock,
beating louder as evening draws near.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 17th, 2026 08:52
- Comment from author about the poem: Just posted a new long-form poetry reading on my YouTube channel featuring selections from Aluminum Cowboys, one piece from Sleep Always Calls, and a sneak peek from my upcoming book Searching for Nod, coming this November. A simple at-home reading—just the work and the page. Watch here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvZAR6uno3A Books available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Thomas-W.-Case/author/B0CL2RKDGX?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_w=xsU45&content Thanks for reading and listening.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, sorenbarrett, Sree, Teddy.15

Offline)
Comments5
A well-written poem. Your poem reflects on the passage of time, contrasting the vibrant, adventurous spirit of youth with the inevitable decline and introspection that come with old age. It captures a sense of nostalgia for lost vitality and a recognition of the limitations that age imposes.
thanks.
A beautiful poem Thomas of the passing of youth and the onset of age with all it holds in store. It is like the passing of day and seasons and the leaving of a dream behind. A fave my friend
Beautiful but sadly so .. welcome to my world my friend .. Top notch if you ask me .. Neville ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐👍
Wow passionate and beautiful, no matter of which age you meet I do believe your poetry just gets more teeth! 🌹
I can relate - all the beautiful maidens have headed for the hills (muscles those boys acquired at the gym) But no more ticking clocks (all run on lithium batteries).
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.