Old Age

Slowly erasing a hand from the clock with each golf swing. The grass needs mending, a little behavioral check up. Routines of such swings with stethoscopes placed on the chest of windows, its important to answer honestly, but at times when schedules blur under the pressure of lawn-care and sport-balls, the world can retain composure against the grain of paint used to inscribe palm prints. As air fades from the mountains of an ancient eroding location, meadows turn toward building fences of neurological necessities out of weekday revolving doors, and with each pulse, as found beneath silver, as replacement for gold, the clothing left to the side of glassed-vitalities question integrity, until moments drip sweat, which congeals at the bottom of the retainer, causing a traditional camera angle to smudge. With each tank of oxygen, the mower remains at work, and games are held in the cup of a still-life wheat seed, dabbing index with breathable grey.


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