i walked this path
when love was young
and buds about to spring —
colors bright, breezes soft
no want for anything.
there was a time
for boundless hope
and dreams of evermore.
now i wander aimlessly
my joints are getting sore.
where went this youth
these dreams and songs
that winged on words of love?
left with geese flocking south
chorus sounds above.
now the trail is sodden
with limp and trodden leaves;
gone the color and the spark.
trees and i are getting old
soon it will be dark.
…
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Dennis Cardiff 
This is beautiful, Dennis.
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I cannot wait to read purchased and thanks for your efforts to give awareness to a subject that is hard to talk about.
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I like the imagery and the rhythm, and how the passing of time is expressed in this poem.
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Beautiful place and poetry.
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I am humbled by the kind words of such an illustrious author. I just bought, Hot Brooklyn Heights, and look forward to reading.
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