The Edge of Too Late, (Poetry)

I sit here balancing on the edge of too late
My face is cracking at an alarming rate
My long held passions are beginning to crumble
And my physical body is threatening to stumble
When did the days start passing in a flurry
And when did the print begin looking so blurry?
With time’s eminent passing I am losing my mojo
And simply can’t view another Kardashian photo.
That slimy, ego-based quest for perfection
Is causing me to do some earnest reflection,
Is slicing and stretching my skin real tight
Going to break my angst, help me sleep through the night?
Society’s answer for staving of aging
Is to battle the war that gravity is waging
The ass that was once nice & high, even firm
Is despite all my yoga beginning to squirm.
In spite of my fear I know there’s still time
To ratchet up my passion, get my ducks in a line.
I’ll write that book, I’ll climb that mountain
I’ll drink in the love & dance in the fountain.
Or at least I will savor this day that is here
Conquer hesitations and face down my fear
And know that the point is to love and be loved
And when given the chance, thank the stars up above.

Tricia Schwaba, 2019