JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

Bird man
perched on a rock
pondering the question
the exact age
when men realize
that they are old

Is it sixty, seventy
eighty?

Or is it
a state of mind
finally achieved after
years of denial

Never really believing

That one day
not too distant
they will stretch
those wings
they never understood
that they possessed
and fly off into

A sunset of eternal youth