Senses

My five senses bring their findings to my door

In racks of stacks for me to trash or to adore.

Age has turned my page and I see me in

A fading light, while a dirge of music adds a

measure of fright to my burgeoning night. I

Struggle to touch these images with calm,

Sniffing a sixth sense that my curtain may be

Coming down. But the message from the

Curtain must have been uncertain: The

Green light for my fight is still on.