Change Unchanging

 At the bloom of my age
I lie on the verge of a page

A page that’s not been turned
But has seen the test of time.
Reader, constantly distracted.
Reader, repeating.

A failed blossom,
Inverted metamorphosis.

A leaf that clings, but is not willing,
The tree of giving having died in Summer.

The fountain of youth has been polluted,
Marred forever and never achanging.