Comes shortstopped days, comes the graying time
Comes color leeched from all things alive,
Leaving dull witness, leaning trunks holding
Tight by roots alone, shuddering in winds
Battering all things, killing some, maiming
Far more than numbers, the words a death knell
For souls locked cold, no real avenues of
Inner flight remain, only removal to
Sunland far down south filled with gray heads
Living their gray lives, with X-G smart-phones
And aps they neither need nor comprehend.