Growing old

Two dry leaves are playing hide and seek on the street. Grey beads of days create a necklace. Peaceful feeling about not attracting anybody anymore. Freedom, more freedom I ever wished for. "Today are only few things which could hurt me." He sounded good when he said: "Last Sunday I threw a weapon into the lake." "Was it frozen?" "Nobody nowhere " isn't about me. Why I feel so soft hearted then? Copyright (c)1990 Marie Neumann, Pottsville