SHRINKING OLD -- A Sonnet

SHRINKING OLD.

Why do you flee, you faces of the night?
You crowd my dreams, but vanish when the day
Arrives to chase my scattered loves away.
I die a little more beneath your flight.

You friends who shared my scrapes, my grins, my fright,
You fragrant women, tearful as you play,
And you my mother, you my father: stay
A moment longer with me in this light.

The sumac reds of autumn line my path.
I hear symphonies and songs while I remain
Alive in my desire, in my grief,

Alive within my creaking shell of wrath.
Yet often, I pursue the reds in vain:
Your faces dim the flame of every leaf.