Sisters

What contrivance is this that these two sisters born of the same mother do trick me so.

When I wore a younger man's clothes did I not consider myself master of both and stride through deepest dark with nary a thought for trip nor trick.

Or did take my ease in the full face of day and revel in her bright glade, and care not for time nor tide.

Yet how pass the years that leave me to stumble through both, with failing eye and trembling hand, to cry in alarm at every turn.

Cruel sisters are they not?