Ruffled Lace

by Ross Smith

I have looked at the world as from beneath a cocked hat.

Imagining a bit of ruffled lace at my throat,
Sporting slouched knee high boots.
As if I were immortal.

Now with the passing of time,

The hat is gone,
The lace is torn and yellowed.

The soles of the boots careworn.

Now the young with the exuberance of their age,

Feel immortal.
And strut about,

Modeling their invulnerability.


1 thought on “Ruffled Lace

  1. I really loved the feel of this poem – rather sad. The images of the lace, cocked hat and worn boots are wonderful.

    Just a thought. With the start of this line: “Now with the passing of time,” perhaps merge the following lines until the line ,”The soles of the boots careworn.”
    I think it makes for a more complete thought and stanza.

    A solid, thoughtful poem.

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