Those Telltale Signs
I glance over at him,
a man of increasing years and greyness,
his hair, his shirt, his trousers, his skin,
folds like ditches on his earlobes.
He bends over, one hand steadied
on a shopping trolley,
reading the Sell-By dates,
and blocking my way
to the strawberries.
I have more time than he does.
AI Digital Art is mine and created using Midjourney’s bot (v4). Image and poem ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney
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