“Mirror Images”
I once looked at men like you,
old men, frail and haunted…
That was when youth declared
that I woiuld live forever.
How hard it was to see then…
how easy it is to see now.
Life was moonlight and promises…
So soon came ecstasy and joy.
When did it get this late?
When did the tree sap harden?
Where is the gold I sought?
Where is the key I held?
Why is the day no longer long?
Why does morning come so late?
What is the mystery to solve?
What day the reckoning?
(A poem by Billy Ray Chitwood, taken from his book, “The Cracked Mirror – Reflections From An Appalachian Son”)
The Final Curtain 