Old Poems

I've got
Stax volt armor
as insulation against
all things cold and chilly
and moods so aloof you can
cut the room with a butter knife.

And I've got neon bright
lettering on store fronts
in red and gold at the
beginnning of dusk on my way
home.

I've got my bondings, my dogs
my cats, my favs... my purpose,
busy days and the importance
of care.

I still have music and words,
inspiration in empty trees,
hearing calls upwards in the
v-formations of geese on course;
a short road trip of sorts.

And I know sometimes
old poems don't fade away
sometimes they just abruptly
stop.