poem by Jim Mann
Artwork by David W. Reed III
THE SECRET
What secret lies hidden folded away in the palms of weather hands
Eye piecing straight ahead as if to ask why do you look this way
Fingers that once soft, now hard as broken slate
Reach out to share a message of time lost
Like a game of hide and seek
To find the hidden recesses of a mind weak with age
Yet with the knowledge of many generations
That have followed before into your tomorrow
But for now I hold the secret
A place where only I can hide
To recall a spent youth