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Saturday Poem: 'I Am Getting Old'
June 23, 2012 4:03 am
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Hard varicose branches so still
against winter's soft, silver skies.
River banks remembered
as not quite so tall.
And were there not
two swans singing?
From a window upstairs
I can see my father's old, rusted wheelbarrow
leaning
against a tired, gray shed.
Francesco Pasqualino is a full-time restaurateur and part-time writer. He lives in Fox Chapel.
First Published June 23, 2012 12:00 am
First Published June 23, 2012 12:00 am
