When the Walls Fall Down

Poetry

By curmudgeon Last updated Jan 2, 2022

There comes a time,
when the walls fall down.
We see age in the eyes of a friend.

We smile.
Accepting,
remembering.

And there, amid the ruins of pretense,
we shall come to love the evening,
no less than the morn.

Poem

Steve Howard

Born in North Carolina, he spent his early childhood in the Appalachian mountains. There he was weaned on gospel and bluegrass music, as well as tales of ghosts, will o the wisps and faeries in the misty highlands. Now retired, and living in northwest Florida, he spends as much time as possible on the rivers and in the woodlands.

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1 Comment

Joyce White says 3 years ago
Great write, great thought. But, I must admit, I loved the morning, am finding the evenings longer than the mornings. You are my genius poet. Keep writing.
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