In the thick jungle of old age
Through which I walk,
Tree branches, bushes brambles,
Wild animals running in the opposite direction,
All damage, puncture, further tear off my tattered clothes.
One by one.
I know that I will end up on the beach at the other end of the island
From where I can seamlessly slip under the ocean waves.
©FJ April 2022
Groupe De Pratique
Recueils — Participations
Many thanks to all
Notes & Silence 
Age. It creeps up on you. And we all end up naked before the endless ocean, at whatever age we arrive.
In that ocean, we are but infinitely small drops.
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