I Feel Old

I feel old

And in the lights

And warm stages of the evening

Where my stories are told

I see eyes

Don’t fire until you see

The whites of their

Eyes

But the whites don’t tell the story

The colours, the rings of humanity

Around the holes

Where light gets in

Those left by parents

That see the moments

Belonging to you

The rings are what I seek

But as I stand

The whites of eyes reflected

Given precedence by stage lamps

And perception

I see a canvas

Blank pages of memory

The flash of the camera

Allowing us to capture a moment