Days Grow Old

Days Grow Old 

Dawn caves in cold 
Days grow old 

condensed sunlit hours 
capture my eyes 
watch wind and wind 
until worn and torn 
time unfurled 
my mind whirled 

unsure of the hour 
unable to cower 
forever, live moves 
yet lost in a forest 
it moves 

11/30/21 – Andy McRae

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Andy McRae

I have been writing poetry for the last 13 years. It all started as an assignment for a creative writing course. I never thought I would like writing, as I am dyslexic and language was always a struggle for me, but I fell in love with the art form in that class.

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