An Old Man

by Sarah Bruno

When Reading looks at me,
it sees the number
of miles that
my feet have walked
in my shuffled steps.

And it counts the
amount of wrinkles
on my face,
laugh lines
and worried creases
running together,
as tributaries
around my cheeks,
leading to the
crescents of my eyes.

It takes time
to become an old man,
as I have done,
but I have suffered
and I have rejoiced
through this obstacle
they call life.

And I have experienced
intense moments of being,
in which I can say
I really have lived.

Yes, it does take time,
but the pendulum
relentlessly swings.