Marbles (a poem)

Based on a conversation with my mom…

No wonder we don’t go
through our lives without cares
what with all the rattling
going on up [in] there

So much clattering
we can’t even think
it’s enough sometimes, you know
to drive one to drink

Just when you begin to get comfortable
and think you’ll be okay
one ‘senior moment’ after another
says things are slipping away

Until the clatter’s no clatter
and more of a rattle
echoing throughout the chamber
marking the end of the battle

When at last it’s quiet
it may not seem so horrible
you made it to the finish
without losing your last marble

(28 June 2019—posted in the a.m. 29 June)


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