Member-only story
Old Pipes
short poem about aging
Feb 3, 2022
Resounding percussion
from a hollow in the wall.
Faint rhythmic echoes
down the hall.
I can’t quite make out the lyrical throng
or I would happily sing along.
As we age, our hearing may slowly diminish. This has been a topic of several discussions between the older members of my family (of which I am now the second oldest). So, when I asked my son what music he’d been playing down the hall and he replied he hadn’t, I wrote this poem. We poets will find inspiration in the strangest places!
May you find your inspiration today.
Lynne
