Expiry

Forehead creased by the lines of a life spent in wonderment.

With nights spent staring out at the mammoth, icy waves on a New England shoreline;

feeling small, but never letting the thought chill your soul.

Hands that speak tales of hard-work, of love, and of both;

Whose calloused palms always knew when to let go, and when to hold on with everything they had.

Every tendon flex, every bone creak attests to the endless possibilities of yesterday;

and the yellowed fingernails are lessons learned and mistakes made.

Your eyes don't see so well anymore;

Can't glance in the mirror and see silver streaks of bets laid and won, of the lyrical dreams that you sung.

It's all blurred into money lost and pride hurt, into shoulders tense and words curt.

Your life is here, in this lockbox of flesh and bone. You'll find the key buried beneath dirt, and rock, and stone.