grayscale photography of rainy weather

The body ages and my hope is 

so the heart and soul ferment 

existence into an elixir

only ageing can possess.  

Something to do about the speed

of living simultaneously increasing

and slowing down, something about

remembering the unforgettable and what

is still being found.  A fellowship of a few.  

The conversations slipping from aches

and pains into the metaphysics of rain.

Sipping that wine that was a moment ago

water until someone says, “It’s time to 

 go” and we look over our shoulders,

laugh, say, “See you tomorrow” as if

it’s a fact and not a prayer with yesterday the answer.

Hootism:  technology cannot compute the mysteries of the heart.