On growing old

by Angela Prew

The sun of our youth is slowly setting,
eternity glows in the Western sky
while closer approaches the vulture’s cry.
Often now, we find ourselves forgetting
names of old friends, things we should be getting
from upstairs. Words trip on our tongues or fly
from our minds. We’ve become bleary of eye
and spend more time sitting and regretting
those years when our feet trod lightly; we danced
down the days; when our eyes were sharp and clear
seeing the future, but far, far away,
far from our lives. Keep it for another day.
Now that day approaches, it is almost here;
but wait! Life’s accounts must yet be balanced.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s