When I pause
and take my time
to pay attention
to those things presented
to my mind
I find
as I grow older
left out more often
in moments colder
fewer stand by me
shoulder to shoulder.
As numbness creeps
from fingertips
it seems at times as though
I’ve lost my grip.
Once precious memories
begin to slip.
Heartfelt refrains
of Auld Lang Syne
each passing year a spirit
a little more or less refined
reaching, reaching for that
touch of the Divine
Glancing back at footsteps
melting in the snow
impressions not indelible,
their value I do not know
and I would have someone tell me,
One who took the time
to know
before I go
Despite my flaws
that I tried
not to lead or follow,
but stand alongside
I would like to believe
I will be missed
when it’s time
for my last sigh.

M. Zane McClellan

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