days of my life

are shrugging off my shoulders

like skin from a snake

full days plucked

from the blades of my back

as feathers from a chicken

whose neck has been cracked

what you take from me

you cannot give back

it’s not that love


hair turned gray

for living life –

wrinkles   changing pigments

are slight pay

but the days  the days of mine

that you strip

and toss away

I watch them   light and thin

as they blow   fall


I know

I will not get them again

Katy Dickson


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