Watching the body lose its shape, the eyes no
longer sparkle, becoming smaller. Strength
disappears, limbs grow stiff, and every
function less accurate and every fiber of
one’s being frail and overwrought with life.
Life is not what in our youth we dreamed
it would be! The aging was not to be mellow
and soft as the sunsets glow, these golden
days’ decline with a hurried speed.
To see the world from a pinnacle with creative
eyes, a heart deeply moved. Yet we mourn to
feel and see the past, the years that are gone
Being old is to spend long days not once
believing that we were ever young. Confined
in the cold prison of living day to day with
weary pain. It is to suffer, being only half
of what we use to be; feeble are many who
are hidden away. Remembrance gone, no
emotion, no life.
This is the last stage of life, frozen within
ourselves, soon to be an empty ghost; whom
do we blame?