An Old Artist Hopes His Life Has Meaning.

 We have crossed the border,

Crossed from January into February,

And soon it shall be March.

Now that I have passed eighty

I seldom go out in winter,

I have always hated the cold

And now I fear the dark.

Since lockdown I have spent the long hours painting,

Or writing poems more intimate and honest

Than I dared attempt when young. 

Now I am old, like Buddha, I live in the moment,

And yet I still dream daily about the future.

I hope that when I no longer  can paint or write,

Friends and family will save my poems and pictures.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter, 

1st. February 2024.

Written after watching a TV programme about Du Fu.