old age

Old Age

The cruel mirror is reflecting
A stranger back at you
Her pale wax skin slowly melting
Her dead eyes disapprove
Later has crept past capturing
your dreams along the way
Once full, your life now vacuous
You’re closeted away

White haired, skin crumpled, transluscent
Flaunting its green-veined map
Ball-bearing joints, crooked and bent
Toffee-brown stained fingers.
Twisted double as you shuffle
Inch by tortuous inch.
Dead hands grasping at your ankle
Pulling you to your grave

Your mind begins to wander aimlessly
and Death firmly grasps your withered hand.
A familiar voice murmurs softly
In your ear. You listen; it fades.
A brief scent of perfumed lilies reminds
You that your time has almost through.
Your tired heart gives up its foolish battle
Releasing you to walk another path

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~ by envisioningutopia on November 22, 2011.

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